


All Memories Are Lost At Sea

by Essie Essex (Kuroneko0489)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Gen, Origins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroneko0489/pseuds/Essie%20Essex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Samuel Beechworth learns of life, love, and morality. Follow him through the most important year of his early life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my least-popular story, but maybe it'll do better here. The writing gets better after the first chapter, so please at least get through part of the second one before you completely stop reading. Thanks.

**Ch.1 - Samuel ponders his role in the life of his younger brother, Toby.**

* * *

Toby was late. Samuel Beechworth tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for his younger brother to return to the village.

"I'll be back by sundown," Toby had said, slapping his brown cap on his head and jogging down the dirt road leading away from the docks where Samuel stood. He kicked up a trail of dust behind him as he bounced his way down the path, never stopping to look back at his worried brother, who stood stiffly with his arms crossed and his face blank. Once Toby was out of sight, Samuel had slouched and sighed, cursing himself for enabling his troublesome brother by covering for him during his depraved escapades outside of town. Or at least Samuel assumed his brother's trips were depraved. He never knew exactly what his brother did when he disappeared for hours on end, sometimes not even letting Samuel know that he was leaving. Still, Samuel covered for Toby when he abandoned his work at the pier and even when he missed dinner, assuming that Toby had left town. At times, Samuel found himself worrying that his brother would hurt himself or get robbed and murdered on the road, and Samuel would be at fault. He had known, after all, that Toby had left town and had lied, to his _Pa_ of all people, and said that his younger brother was visiting Old Mrs. Hart on the north side of town or eating dinner with his friend, Michael. If Toby were murdered, nobody would even know that anything was wrong until the next day. Upon discovering that not only was Toby not back when Samuel said he would be, but Mrs. Hart and Michael had not seen the boy at all the day before, Pa would be furious. Ma would just cry, looking at her eldest son with disappointment on her frail face.

He had lied. Samuel, the _good_ son, had lied to his trusting parents.

"At least I have you, son." Samuel had heard those words coming from his father's mouth more than once. "Aah, your brother's been caught drinking stolen whiskey with his friends again. What will the neighbors say? I don't know what I'd do if both of you were like your younger brother. At least I have you, son." He would then pat Samuel on the back, letting a flash of a smile light his face before returning to his somber self.

What would Pa say if he found out that Samuel had lied more than once, putting his brother in danger every time he did? Samuel tried to picture it, but his mind was hesitant to synthesize the frightening image. He pushed the thought away, bringing himself back to his current situation. His fantasized future seemed more than probable, though, as the sun had gone down and given way to blackness freckled with light.

"Toby, where are you?" Samuel whispered aloud, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. His hands were wedged into the pockets of his thick jacket, and he grabbed at the fabric within.

Another half hour passed, and Toby still had not returned. Samuel was surely missing supper by now. He jumped up and down, trying to keep his feet and legs warm. It was hot enough during the day in Old Pier, but the nights were cold and breezy. The sea flavored the air that filled Samuel's nostrils with its familiar smell. The smell of home.

Samuel sighed, turning and looking in the direction of his family's small cabin. He considered leaving the pier and making his way down the path that led home. It would be warm inside the one-room shack, the cast iron stove spewing heat and smoke from its cracked and blackened body. The air would smell of food and wood smoke, complementing Ma's melodic giggle and Pa's bitter and caustic cackle.

The path to the house, grand as a golden road, beckoned Samuel toward it, promising rich rewards at its end. Toby had to face the consequences of his actions at some point. Samuel couldn't cover for him forever. If he was late, then he would have to return home and explain his tardiness to their parents himself.

Samuel nodded determinately. He had made a decision. No more lying for Toby. He would go home and eat with his parents, not knowing where his brother was or when he would return, and when Toby barged through wooden the door, out of breath and red-faced, Samuel would simply stay silent, leaving the coughing, wheezing boy to face-Pa.

It almost seemed cruel, but Samuel reminded himself that Toby endured Pa's wrath on a regular basis, while he did not. Samuel tried to think back to the last time Pa had been angry at him. A vague image of a fishing boat getting smaller and smaller as it bobbed away on the ocean waves, eventually disappearing into the crimson sunset, edged itself into his mind. Pa, standing over a smaller Samuel, like a monster from the stories his Ma used to read to him, snarling and pointing with his ham-like hands. Little Samuel with hot tears running down his face, feeling guilty and ashamed. Samuel had only been seven years old then, but even at seventeen, he still saw Pa as a roaring giant, looking down on him with imposing and judging eyes.

"I must always be good," Samuel had told himself every day after the boat incident. "I must _always_ be good." What would that little boy think of him now? Would he know that he would grow up to lie to his parents and himself almost daily?

The good child. Samuel couldn't help but let out a short, bitter chuckle. If his parents knew-if they knew-. It couldn't go on. Samuel knew it. It said to himself every night, just as he had told himself to be good everyday when he was younger. They were only words, though.

Samuel wondered if it would be different if he didn't have a brother. Would he be as-corrupted-as he was now?

Samuel guiltily pushed the thought from his mind. It was no way to think of his family. He abandoned his post and turned down the dirt path toward his home, walking slowly and steadily with his head down. The ground beneath him was loose and uneven, but not a single speck of dust did he kick up.

* * *

Samuel opened the door to find Pa sitting at the table, his back turned and his large hands resting on his belly. Ma was at the other end of the table, slouching forward, her bun partially undone so that her wispy hair fell to all sides of her head. She pushed her dull, beige locks away from her face with a thin hand and adjusted her wide, doe eyes toward the door.

"Ma," said Samuel, striding to the far side of the room to give his mother a kiss on the forehead. She gave him a weak smile, her wide stare narrowing into a squint. The wrinkles next to her eyes deepened, looking like cracks in her porcelain skin.

Pa cleared his throat, and Samuel turned to face him. Pa raised an eyebrow. He was far from furious, but he wasn't happy either.

"You missed dinner," he said, his arms still folded over his large belly.

Samuel turned his head to the table, noticing that all of the dishes had been cleared.

"I'm sorry, Pa," Samuel said, looking his father in the eye. "I lost track of time. It won't happen again."

"It had better not," Pa said, his lips straight and tight.

Samuel waited expectantly for the question he imagined would come next, but Pa's mouth stayed closed. Samuel yawned and turned to the loft behind him.

"I think I'll go to bed," he said, reaching down to remove his boots.

"Good idea," said Pa. "We're going out early tomorrow."

Samuel nodded and balanced on one foot to remove his other boot. He threw the old, brown boots, caked with dried mud, by the front door and hung his jacket above them. The loft, lined with blankets, looked inviting as Samuel made his way up the worn, wooden ladder. He crawled into his usual space, climbing over a pile of quilts on the way. He tried to kick the pile down and felt his foot connect with something solid. The quilts rose from the ground, growing and warping into a mountain, until a head popped out of the top.

Toby grinned at his brother, his bright blue eyes dulled with sleep, and his sandy head of hair alive with static.

Samuel opened his mouth, a flood of emotions spilling into his mind. The words seemed to come all at once, and all Samuel could manage was a primal bellow followed by a clumsy attack. He pinned his younger brother to the floor, seething, with his lips pulled back and his teeth bared. Samuel opened his mouth to yell at his brother, but Toby laughed and reached his finger the best that he could up to his lips.

Right. They had to be quiet, for in their one-room cabin, conversations were easily overheard. Samuel was sure that his parents had to have heard the thump of Toby hitting the ground with the weight of his elder brother on top of him. Luckily, both Ma and Pa had chosen to ignore it.

"Where were you?" Samuel whispered into his brother's face.

Toby's eyes brightened as his grinned widened.

"I can't tell you now," he said.

"What?" Samuel spat. "You left me waiting out there for you in the cold."

"I know," Toby said. "I'll make it up to you-somehow, but Samuel," Toby's expression morphed into serious excitement. "I think this was the best day of my life."

Samuel rolled his eyes, scowling, and freed his brother from the floor of the loft.

"I don't even care," he said, shaking his head and leaning back on his feet. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm fed up with all of this."

Toby's face dropped, and Samuel turned to face the wall, settling on his side.

"I'm not doing this anymore," Samuel said, his voice muffled by the pillow next to his face. "I can't lie for you anymore."

"But Samuel," Toby shook his brother's shoulder, and Samuel stubbornly swatted at the hand until it retreated. "Samuel, please." Toby drew his face close to his brother's ear. "Please, this is important. More important than anything before. _Please._ "

"No," Samuel said, letting out an exasperated sigh into his pillow.

"But I'm in _love_."

"You are not in love," Samuel breathed.

"I am. Really, Samuel," Toby said.

"Let me sleep before you ruin another day for me," said Samuel, covering his head with his blanket.

Toby begged a few more times with no reply from his elder brother.

"You're supposed to take care of me," he said.

Resentment built up in Samuel's throat. _You've corrupted me,_ he thought, but he couldn't help but blame his own weakness.

Eventually Toby gave up and tunneled back under the quilts. When Samuel opened his eyes, the room was quiet and dark. There was no sign of Ma and Pa, who usually slept in the loft with the two boys. Samuel sat up to look down into the main room, but he could see nothing through the inky blackness. He sighed and rested his head again, too tired to make sense of his parents' strange absence.

As he drifted off, his head swimming with random thoughts and images from the day, one sentence climbed its way from the confusion and made its way to his lips.

"I must always be good." The words left Samuel's mouth, spreading themselves in all directions, embedding themselves into the walls, and filling the air. They surrounded Samuel, holding him close and then soaked into his skin, enchanting him like a magic spell.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel spends some time with the family and then heads out to the country to meet Toby's mysterious girlfriend.

* * *

Samuel awoke to firelight flickering through the cracks of the ground below him. He turned over to find that the large lump of quilts hadn't moved from last night, and Ma slept on the far side of the loft, covered in a wrinkled, brown blanket.

He took a deep breath and stretched his arms and legs. He could hear rustling coming from the main room downstairs. He got on his knees and leaned forward, peaking over the edge of the loft. Pa sat at the table in front of a plate of half-eaten fish. Samuel made his way down the ladder, as he did every morning, never looking down to count the rungs or watch where he placed his feet.

"Morning, Pa," he mumbled, shuffling his way across the wooden floor. Pa grunted in return, his mouth full of food. Samuel headed toward the back door leading to the yard. Outside, the air was cool and fresh, smelling of the sea. The ground was slightly damp, leaving Samuel's bare feet tinted brown as he made his way to the outhouse.

The Beechworth family shared the yard with the houses on either side of their cabin and the three houses behind it. Only a few neighbors were awake at this time, mirroring Samuel as they prepared themselves for the long day ahead of them.

Samuel didn't bother greeting any of them yet, knowing that they would not appreciate having their routines interrupted. There was an unwritten rule among the houses that shared a backyard. In the backyard, there was no obligation to say hello or good day or any other greeting. Despite sharing the space, most did not want to be disturbed while using the outhouse or bathing. Samuel had gone out back a few times during the day to find the women talking to each other as they did laundry, but mostly, there was no conversation in the backyard. Once Samuel went out the front door, however, he would greet his neighbors, each one by name, and they would smile and greet him.

After leaving the outhouse, Samuel crossed the yard and filled a bucket with water from the pump behind the house. After grabbing a washcloth and clean clothes from the clothesline, he shut himself into a wooden cubicle surrounded by a tall, wooden fence. The soft, moldy wood under his feet creaked as he set the bucket down and walked to the far side of the cubicle, hanging his clean clothes over the side of the fence. He then removed his dirty clothes and threw those over the fence as well. A bar of lye soap sat on the ground, and Samuel bent to pick it up. It came unstuck from the wood after some effort, suddenly popping into Samuel's hand. He stepped backward to stop himself from falling and took the soap to the bucket and towel that he had placed on the ground. Samuel shivered as he dipped the washcloth into the bucket and ran the wet cloth over his skin. The washcloth was thin and frayed with a few holes worn into it from its many years of use. Samuel lathered the soap in his hand.

As he washed, Samuel remembered the night before.

"I'm in love," Toby had said. Samuel wondered about Toby's mystery girl. Was she from the city? Could she be a foreigner? Samuel figured that Toby had grown tired of the local girls.

"They're all the same," Toby said to Samuel one day. "I need something new. Someone exciting and exotic."

Samuel shook his head and smiled, picturing Toby with some busty woman from Serkonos. Toby would probably get it in his head to run off with her. Away from Gristol. Away from all the gray, bleakness of Old Pier to the sunny beaches near Cullero.

It was difficult for Samuel to imagine life without his brother, but he also hated the thought of leaving the familiarity of Gristol. Toby would leave without him, and Samuel would settle down and live the simple life of a fisherman.

Or would he become an overseer as both Pa and Ma had urged him to be, more than once. Still, Pa brought it up every now and then. Samuel even suspected that Pa had asked the overseers to talk to him, because after every sermon an overseer managed to find Samuel and tell him what a fine member of the Abbey of the Everyman he would make.

Samuel finished washing and donned his clean clothes for the day. The fabric was soft against his rough skin, and he adjusted his shirt, eyeing the many patches covering its body. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a new shirt. He had not grown in a while, so he did not need one, but usually Ma would make him a new one every year. She hadn't in about two.

Samuel noticed that Ma had been weak lately. She had always been thin and frail, but still she had the energy to cook and clean and take care of her children. Now, Pa took over some of her responsibilities, sometimes even cooking dinner after a long day of fishing.

Samuel shook away his worries and went back inside the house. Pa had finished eating and was now getting into his dirty, brown boots. Toby had awoken and was sitting at the table. He looked up at Samuel.

"Pa but foke fiss," he said, his mouth full of food. Samuel smiled, because at that moment, Toby looked like Pa.

Samuel translated Toby's garbled sentence as "Pa bought smoked fish", and he realized that he was correct after seeing the wrapped package on the counter to the right. He picked it up and opened it, breathing in the fish's smoky freshness. He sat at the table, across from Toby.

"Samuel," said Pa, standing in front of the door. "Come out when you're ready."

"Okay, Pa," Samuel said. There was no need for Pa to tell him to hurry. Toby would have taken his time, taking Pa's statement to mean that he would wait outside for him patiently. Samuel tore into the fish, eating about half before shoving it in front of Toby.

"Have fun, Samuel," Toby said.

"Why aren't you coming?" Samuel asked. He realized that Pa hadn't given him a job to do while they were gone.

"I'm helping Ma today," he said. "With the housework." Samuel tried to imagine Toby in the backyard, chatting with the women as they hung clothes up to dry.

"Okay," said Samuel. He didn't have time to question it.

Outside, the sun had started to rise, and the sky was a matte gray.

"Hello, Samuel." Samuel heard a voice to his right. It was Mr. Henry from next door.

"Good morning, Mr. Henry," Samuel said, smiling and nodding his head.

"Why, hello there, Samuel!" Another voice sounded to Samuel's left.

"Morning, Mr. Lake." Mr. Lake lumbered down the front stairs of his house and headed over to Pa.

"Good morning, John," he said.

"Morning Corbin," Pa said.

Samuel made his way to Pa, and the two turned toward the pier.

* * *

John Beechworth was a simple man. He had lived in Old Pier for his entire life, making a living as a fisherman, as most did in his town. He grew from a hard-working young man into a hard-working old man, never changing. The town seemed to be stuck in time, untouched by the new technology that brought both convenience and corruption wherever it went. The people of Old Pier were no exception. Most were born and died in their family homes. The fishing village brought in money by selling fish to the nearby city of Potterstead and was famous for the freshness and diversity of its product. Its fishing methods were passed down in families from generation to generation.

Samuel stood next to his father, almost a mirror image of John when he was his age. His hair was thick and dark and his skin was red and chapped, owing its ruggedness to the salty, sea air that whipped across his face everyday. He was lean, not skinny, but slim with sleek muscle, and his heavily-lidded eyes shined bright blue against the grays and browns of Gristol. Samuel stood shorter than John, his head only reaching the older man's shoulder, but Samuel's even-temperedness, as opposed to his father's reputation of having a short fuse, seemed to justify his height, as he did not tower over the heads of others as did Pa.

Pa had lost the figure of his youth, his heavily-muscled body accented by a large belly. He was bearded and gray and took great pride in the fact that he was not balding. Samuel had inherited his father's hair, however his younger brother, Toby, had his mother's dull, sandy hair, light and wispy like having a head full of feathers.

Samuel and Pa approached the pier and made their way to the fishing boat. After the second boat mishap (that one was Toby's fault), Pa took on the responsibility of tying the boat to the dock. Every time. The new boat was a more expensive one with a motor.

"Start up the boat, Samuel," Pa said, throwing a net into the vessel's interior. Samuel stepped into the boat, careful not to fall as it rocked with his weight. He started up the engine, and Pa untied the boat before stepping into it himself. Pa motioned for Samuel to head out.

Pa watched carefully as Samuel steered the craft from the pier out into open water. He had been teaching Samuel how to drive the boat. At first, Samuel had trouble with the steering, frequently turning the boat in the wrong direction and not knowing if he was going forward or in reverse. Eventually, Samuel became a decent boatman, maneuvering through the water with relative ease.

Pa looked around and pointed Samuel in his chosen direction. Samuel didn't know how Pa knew where to look for fish. All of the water looked the same to him. Pa had tried to explain to Samuel that he had been fishing in these waters for his entire life and knew it like it was his home, but Samuel still didn't understand. A vast, watery field surrounded them. How did Pa know how far to go in which direction when there were no landmarks or other distinguishing features?

Pa motioned for Samuel to stop, and Samuel cut the engine. The boat bobbed lazily on the rolling waves. Samuel helped Pa with the net, and the two dropped it into the water, tying its other end to the boat.

Pa cleared his throat at sat at the boat's edge, facing Samuel.

"You know, son," he said. Samuel readied himself for an uncomfortable talk with his father. Pa tried to be a good father, talking to his sons about responsibility and growing up, but the words did not come to him easily. Ma told Samuel that Pa was not used to speaking about feelings. His own Pa was not very understanding and usually let him figure things out for himself, scolding Pa whenever he did something wrong. Samuel looked his father in the eye and smiled encouragingly.

"I talked to Overseer Morris a few days ago," said Pa. Samuel sighed. He knew where this was going. "He said to me that you would make a great overseer. They know how to tell, you know? They can sense that you're one of their own." He put his hand on Samuel's shoulder. "You're a good boy, Samuel. Smart too. I just..." he hesitated. "You don't want to stay here forever, do you?" Samuel opened his mouth to speak, but Pa continued. "You've got morals, Samuel. You do what's right. Don't you feel it's your duty as a follower of the Abbey to help the common, working man and to guide those whose morals are skewed?"

Samuel swallowed. He had never thought of "his duty" before. He had not completely rejected the possibility of becoming an overseer. He loved going to the weekly sermon. He watched fervently as Overseer Morris stood in front of the crowd, yelling and gesturing wildly, igniting the souls of every person who listened. The common man felt powerful then. He felt hope. He knew that his work kept the Empire alive. Was it Samuel's duty as a moral person to be like Overseer Morris? To help the common folk? The Empire?

"I don't know," said Samuel.

"Well," Pa said, gruffly. "You should know soon. You're growing up. You're not a boy anymore, and you need to figure out what you're going to do with your life."

"I thought I would just be a fisherman, like you, Pa," said Samuel, looking across the boat at his father.

"You can do that," said Pa. "I would be proud of you, but," he hesitated. "You - You're a good boy, Samuel. You'll make the right decision." Silence followed, and Pa looked over the edge of the boat at the net. Samuel glanced up at the sky, which was now a dull, grayish blue. He loved sitting out in the water, staring at the waves. He loved the feeling of isolation, as if nobody would ever be able to find him there. Even the seagulls stayed away, preferring to circle the shores of the island. Samuel closed his eyes, letting his head swim with the waves.

_My duty._ Samuel inhaled the sweet air, savoring every moment of it, but then the guilt arrived, creeping into his thoughts and interrupting his peace.

* * *

Samuel and Pa returned at dusk, hauling a net of wriggling fish behind them. They dragged it over to the warehouse, where the fish would be made ready to sell.

They returned home feeling accomplished, with sore muscles and wind-whipped skin. Dinner waited on the table, and Toby and Ma sat in their seats, waiting for Samuel and Pa.

" _Finally_ ," Toby said. "I worked so hard on all of this food, and you all take your time, letting it get cold." A fake pout settled on his face.

"Sorry, _Ma_ ," Samuel said to Toby, laughing. Ma giggled along too, and Samuel and Pa removed their boots and jackets. After washing their hands in the backyard, they returned and sat at the table.

Pa immediately served himself, and the rest of the family surged forward, piling food on their plates. Samuel and Toby ate quickly, serving themselves large portions of food and scarfing it down before Pa could grab at the leftovers on their plates. Pa always ate quickly, though he made it look more natural. When he finished his own dinner, he moved on to the boys' plates, taking what they had not yet eaten. Ma always disapproved of Pa's behavior that gave rise to the boys' dinner ritual, but every night was the same. Samuel and Toby had learned at an early age to eat quickly if they wanted to keep their food. The habit made for interesting dinners whenever the boys ate with the neighbors or friends' families.

Dinner ended quickly, and Toby and Ma cleared the table, leaving Samuel and Pa to sit. Pa leaned back in his chair, as he usually did, with his hands folded across his belly. His eyes were closed. Samuel yawned and considered the loft. A blanket hung down from the edge of the high, wooden floor, and suddenly, all Samuel wanted to do was sleep. Apparently, Pa had the same idea. A snore erupted from his face as he leaned back against the uncomfortable, wooden chair.

Toby laughed and stood next to Samuel.

"Looks like you two did some hard work out there today." He slapped his brother on the shoulder.

"I guess so," Samuel said. "I think I'll turn in." Samuel yawned. "We have Sermon early tomorrow." Toby groaned.

"Those overseers are so creepy," he said, frowning.

"You say that every week," said Samuel. "Just talk to them for once. You'll see that they're nice." Toby groaned again and headed up the ladder. Samuel followed.

Soon, Toby was fast asleep under his quilts, and Samuel lay on his back, looking up at the low ceiling. Ma and Pa had left the house shortly after the boys went to the loft. Samuel wanted to ask his parents about their nightly outings, but he also felt that it was none of his business. Samuel turned over to face the wall and soon fell into a light sleep.

* * *

Samuel awoke to a loud thud that shook the house. He sat up and looked around.

"Toby?" he whispered. He nudged the quilts next to him and realized that Toby was not under them. The front door opened and then closed again.

Samuel bolted out of bed, sliding down the ladder, and dashed toward the door. He grabbed his boots and jacket and ran outside. Toby knelt by the side of the house, rubbing his knee. He looked up and saw Samuel.

"Samuel," he said. "I - "

"What are you doing?" Samuel said.

"I'm meeting Susannah," he said. "At her house." Samuel stared at Toby dumbly.

"Susannah?"

"You wanna met her?" Toby grinned. "She's really nice. You'll love her," he said. "Just..." Toby bit his lip as though he meant to tell Samuel something. "It's nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Come on, put your boots on and let's go."

Toby headed toward the road before Samuel had time to protest. Samuel followed, hopping on one foot as he attempted to shove his boots on his feet.

Samuel had never been outside of the village at night. Usually when he left Old Pier during the day, it was to visit the local city of Potterstead to sell fish and to buy food and supplies for the family. Toby headed away from the city, taking the road leading out into the country, and Samuel followed.

"Toby!" Samuel said, trying to keep his voice low. "Where are we going?" Toby stayed silent, jogging far ahead of his brother. Samuel's long strides quickened, and soon he was jogging as well.

The night was black, and the boys only had the stars and a sliver of a moon to light their way. Samuel found himself wishing that he had brought a lantern, but he assured himself that as long as they stayed on the road, they would be fine.

As if hearing Samuel's thoughts, Toby suddenly veered off to the left, disappearing into a field of tall corn. Samuel quickened his pace and followed. He soon found himself surrounded on all sides, running blindly through stalk after stalk. Toby was nowhere in sight.

"Toby?" he called. There was no answer. Samuel slowed to a light jog and kept straight. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, each thump cascading up to his throat as he ran, the corn closing in on him at every step.

Finally he stopped, panting and wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. He looked around. The corn was so tall that he couldn't see past it. He imagined it going on forever. He looked up at the usually familiar sky and found that the corn stalks blocked it from him as well. He could only see a small column of black sprinkled with white above him. The stalks, nearly black as the sky, reached up to grab at as much of the air as they could.

"Toby!" Samuel called, louder this time. He laughed bitterly. Suddenly, he felt like the younger brother, calling for his big brother to come find him after, distracted by all of the new sights and sounds, he had accidentally let go of his hand at the market. Samuel took a deep breath and shivered. The sweat on his body seemed to soak through his skin, chilling him from the outside in.

He couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at himself for following Toby in the first place. Of course his brother would just leave him here, never thinking to make sure that Samuel was still behind him. Toby probably didn't even want him to come along in the first place. He probably didn't even think Samuel _would_ come along.

What could he have done, though? Should he have waited at home until Ma and Pa returned, so he could tell them that he let his little brother run off into the night? Should he have gone to bed and pretended that he didn't know that Toby had left? He sighed. That was _exactly_ what he should have done.

_But if anything had happened to Toby?_

He shook the thought from his mind and forced his body forward into the corn field. What could ever happen to Toby in the middle of a seemingly endless field of corn, besides getting lost? He would have plenty of food. Samuel stopped and considered getting some corn for himself. The family would appreciate it if he brought some back. He pulled on a stalk to his side until he could grab an ear. He had never picked corn before and found that it was not very easy. After some pulling and twisting, the ear gave way, and Samuel grabbed another. After a while he had three ears, enough for him, Ma, and Pa. He started walking again, but stopped and pulled at another stalk, grumbling under his breath as his hands tugged at the firm plant.

_And one for Toby._

He stuffed the corn as best as he could into his large jacket pockets and turned to find his way out of the field.

Miraculously, the cornfield did not go on forever and ended after Samuel ran for a few more minutes. Samuel found himself standing in a field of shaggy grass. He squinted. He could see some light ahead of him, far into the distance. He crossed the field, suddenly feeling exposed without the corn to hide him from the night.

As he neared the light, he realized that it came from a building. An old farm house with cracked paint and dirty windows grew in front of him. He made it to the house and found the front door, which had been boarded shut. Samuel concluded that he was probably not at the right house, but hopefully, he could ask whoever was in there for directions. He knocked on the front door. The large slab of wood rattled, and paint chips came away on Samuel's knuckle. He knocked a few more times and then walked around the house. The light was coming from the side. He tried to peek in through the window, but it was too dirty, and all he could see was a dusty brightness. He found the side door and knocked again. There was still no answer, but Samuel thought he could hear voices. He twisted the doorknob.

The door opened easily with a loud squeak, and Samuel found himself in a kitchen. A small figure popped into the interior doorframe, and Samuel suppressed a jump at the sudden movement. He shivered. The silhouette was that of a petite girl who had darted almost instantaneously across the room and was now attempting to shove a mug of hot liquid in his hand.

"Samuel!" she said, beaming. She looked up at him with exotic cat eyes and a wide, thin smile. Samuel took the mug and held it, still looking at the girl. "I'm glad you're here. Tobias mentioned that his brother might be showing up."

"What?" said Samuel, his mouth hanging open. The girl touched his arm that still held the doorframe and then stepped back.

"Tobias has mentioned you before, but he always thought that you wouldn't approve of me. I think it's so cute that he wants to impress you, Samuel." She giggled lightly, her playful eyes narrowing.

"Tobias?" Samuel said. Suddenly, he felt very silly, standing at the side door with a dumb expression on his face, holding a mug and saying nothing but single words.

"I'm Susannah," said the girl, taking his arm and pulling it toward her. "Why don't you come inside?" Samuel hesitated and then stepped into the kitchen. The door slammed shut behind him. "Oh, there's no need to do that," said Susannah when Samuel bent down to remove his dirty boots. "There's plenty of dirt in this house. Plus, you should drink your tea before it gets cold. It's my special recipe. It'll help you feel better." Samuel hadn't been aware that he wasn't feeling well, but he realized that he was cold and tired from running outside.

"And I'll take those," said Susannah, reaching toward him and pulling the ears of corn out of his pockets. She put them on the kitchen counter and beckoned him toward the other room. Samuel took one last look at the corn and then followed Susannah out of the kitchen.

The living room was warm with the rustic feel of a country home. Samuel's first impression of the room left him feeling relaxed and safe, as though he were in the arms of a soft, loving mother. His annoyance with his brother forgotten, Samuel sat across from Toby, who had sunken into a loveseat lined with faded fabric. The flowers on the worn loveseat, which Samuel assumed used to be pink, were shades of dull brown and gray, complemented by a layer of dirt and dust. Toby raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"Better than home, eh?" he said.

Samuel leaned back on the sofa, which had the same pattern as the loveseat, and sipped his tea. He felt a rush of warmth flood through his body, leaving his skin and insides tingly. The flavor of unknown spices lined his mouth, and Samuel's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm glad you agree with me," said Toby, catching Samuel's expression. "Even if Susannah looked like Mrs. Hart, I'd still sneak here in the middle of the night just for the tea."

Samuel couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah," he said. "It makes getting lost in a cornfield almost feel worth it."

"It _is_ worth it," said Toby, laughing. "Getting lost in the cold probably makes the tea taste even better, if that's possible."

Samuel considered bringing up the matter of Toby leaving him lost in the cornfield, but he tucked the thought back into his mind. He couldn't be angry now and ruin the mood.

Soon, the euphoria resulting from sipping tea in front of a warm fire wore off as Samuel held the empty, rapidly-cooling mug between his palms. Susannah had joined the boys in the living room, choosing to sit next to Toby on the loveseat. She leaned against his shoulder.

Samuel sat back and picked up a book resting on an end table to his right. He looked at the cover of the damaged, leather book, nearly dropping it as he read the title.

_Secrets of the Occult_

Samuel held the book away from him, as though it would harm him if he got any closer to it.

"What is this?" he demanded. Toby sat up, looking confused, but Susannah leaned forward calmly, taking the book from Samuel's hand. Toby leaned over and read the title of the book, and he took it from her, putting it on his lap to flip through the book's yellowed pages.

"It's just a book," Susannah said, shrugging. "It's an interest of mine. The occult. It can be a very interesting subject." Samuel cringed but said nothing. He watched Toby look through the volume with greedy eyes. He knew he could never control his brother, but could he really let Toby keep seeing... a witch?

"You're just reading about it, right?" Samuel said. "You're studying it, like a subject in school?"

"Of course," said Susannah, her small frame shifting on the love seat. "I'm studying it." Samuel sighed, thinking that it could be worse.

"Just don't let the overseers find that," he warned.

"I know," Susannah said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's safe here. They never come out to the country. There are hardly any people here."

Despite Susannah's reassurance, he still felt uneasy at the girl's lack of wariness when it came to the overseers. Keeping a book out in the open did not sound like a good idea to him. He tried to change the subject.

"So, what do you do for a living, Susannah?" Samuel asked. "Is this your family's house?" Susannah looked down.

"This house belonged to my parents," she said. "My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died a few years ago. I've been alone ever since. I sell - trinkets - by the road."

"By yourself?" Samuel said. "And you've lived in this house by yourself?" Susannah nodded. The house was old and rickety, made of wood that had worn over time. Samuel tried to imagine taking care of himself at Susannah's age. She wasn't much younger than him. Maybe a year. He would be okay. Samuel stopped and considered Toby. Toby looked up from the book.

"This is all so confusing," he said. "I don't understand what this book is talking about at all." He looked to Susannah, who took the tattered volume back from him. She closed it.

"I know. The language can get... complicated. The people who write these books try to make everything sound mystical, as though they had all the secrets. Really, it's simple. They don't know much, so they just write." Susannah laughed. "I've gotten used to it after reading so many occult books."

"You have more?" Toby's ears perked, but then he noticed Samuel's face. "Okay, you grump," he said. "We'll talk about something else." He opened his mouth and paused.

"What are you going to name your children when you grow up, Samuel?" Susannah said. Both Toby and Samuel stared at her. "Is that a strange question?" she asked. "I'm going to have all girls, except for the last one. The fifth will be a little boy." Her eyes narrowed in contemplation. "The first will be Maia, then Marcella, then Celeste, then Amelia."

"That's our Ma's name," Toby said, leaning toward Susannah.

"Then I was right to choose it," Susannah said. "Then, the boy will be Magnus." She chuckled. "So, Samuel?" Samuel felt unnerved by the subject of their conversation.

"I don't know," he said off-handedly. "I'll probably just name my child after Ma or Pa."

"There could be two Amelia's," Susannah said, gleefully.

"No, Samuel, you're going to have a boy. _Definitely_ a boy," Toby interjected.

"How do you know?" Samuel said, teasingly. He felt his shoulders relax.

"Because he's going to be _just_ like me," said Toby. "I'll have it worse, though, because I'll have a son like you. How am I supposed to raise some boring kid who does everything I tell him to do? I imagine I'll have to start teaching him how to sneak out and lie to his parents. I think I could do that, though," he said, grinning. "I'm doing such a good job with you already, Samuel. Pretty soon, you'll be running off with some girl, and I'll be _so_ proud of you.

"I can imagine it now," Toby's voice turned to a low growl.

" 'Son, bring me my shoes from outside.' " Toby changed to a high, squeaky voice.

" 'Okay, Pa!... Here are your shoes, Pa!'

" 'What?' " Toby made a smacking motion with his hand and then immediately changed his face and sniffled as though he were crying.

" 'What did you do that for, Pa?'

" 'What did I say, boy?'

" 'You said to get your shoes from outside'

" 'And what did you do after that?'

" 'I got your shoes'

" 'Well, that's where you went wrong, boy. You're young. You don't have to obey your Pa all the time. Go play for a bit. Get yourself dirty. Your job isn't done till you come back in the house muddy and sweating with my shoes in your hand. Then you act like nothing happened!'

" 'But, Pa'

" 'That's it! That's how you do it!'

" 'Okay, Pa' " Toby shook his head.

" 'You're gonna need some more work, son. You disappoint me.' "

A hint of sadness flashed across Toby's face, but was immediately replaced with his familiar uncontrollable laughter.

"Can you imagine our first family High Summer together?" Toby shook his head. "Our kids'll wonder if they accidentally got switched at birth. They won't wanna leave their uncles!" Toby's face turned red as he burst out laughing. Samuel smiled and felt his eyelids start to droop but then noticed Susannah, who had stopped laughing. She stared at him with her ancient, green eyes, her face unmoving. Then, suddenly the spell was broken.

"I think we should start," Susannah said, standing. Toby looked up at her.

"Yeah, yeah, we should."

"Samuel?" Susannah held out her hand.

"What are we doing?" Samuel said, standing.

"You'll see," Susannah said with a mysterious smirk. She took Samuel's hand, leading him toward her.

"It'll be fun," said Toby.

Susannah led Samuel and Toby into a field behind the house and to a set of double doors. They were old and chained with a padlock. Susannah took a key from her dress and unlocked it, leading them down the stairs and underground.

The cellar was damp and dark and smelled of mildew. Black mold gathered in the corners of the room, snaking its way between the cracked bricks. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the few pieces of furniture - an old, broken table with one leg missing and a spinning wheel made of dull, scratched wood - were lined with a layer of thick dust. Samuel suppressed a sneeze, but Toby coughed uncontrollably.

"I think I just inhaled a spider," Toby said, sniffling. He looked to Samuel with watery eyes, giving him a grin, but his older brother was too busy looking around.

"What are we doing here?" Samuel asked. Susannah turned to him as she patted Toby's back.

"I thought we'd bring a little luck into our lives," she said. "Toby's been wanting to come down here, ever since I told him about my secret room."

"Secret room?" said Samuel, haltingly. "What did you say about luck?"

Susannah walked ahead of them, turning to a rusty faucet in the right corner of the room. She ran the tap, turning it on and then off again, counting: _One, two, three._

Dust fell from the ceiling as the wall next to her cracked and groaned and then slid to the left with a loud grating noise. Samuel gritted his teeth, cringing at the sound.

Susannah went into the space first, reaching her hand into a hole in the brick wall and pulling out a box of large matches. She navigated her way expertly through the dark room, lighting candles that eventually illuminated the space with an eerie glow. The light flickered, making the shadows dance on the walls. Susannah stood behind a circular table and motioned for the two brothers to sit at the table. Toby went first, taking a seat on a stool to Susannah's right. Samuel followed hesitantly. Suddenly, he wanted to grab Toby and drag his brother out of the cellar and right back home. He couldn't help but think of the many sermons he had attended at the local hall belonging to the Abbey. He pictured the overseers in their masks, their eyes piercing and knowing, as if they could see his every thought. He shivered and looked around. He knew the overseers couldn't see him now, but still he could feel their stares. He had never believed in all the magic and witchcraft they talked about, but he figured that they warned against it because it went against their morals. The Abbey promoted hard work and sacrifice. This was what the common man did every day. Samuel had always supported and admired the overseers, thanking them whenever he left a sermon for looking out for the common folk. They knew that these were the people who made the Empire great. However, people who practiced witchcraft...

Samuel couldn't bring himself to believe that magic actually existed, but he knew that people _did_ practice witchcraft, performing horrible rituals involving blood and dead animals, bones and guts. The overseers said that sometimes these witches sacrificed humans - babies, even - to gain power for themselves.

There were no babies or animals in the room. There were no bathtubs filled with blood. He watched as Susannah took items out of a large, cedar box and placed them on the table. She handed a scrap of paper to Toby and then gave one to Samuel and then passed them each a strand of twine. She kept some paper and twine for herself and then, with both hands, set a heavy, stone bowl in the middle of the table. A few white candles on the table had already been lit, and she placed one closer to the bowl. Lastly, she took a single pencil out of the box and dropped it to the right of her paper.

"Okay," Susannah said, looking from Toby to Samuel. "Now, both of you should start by thinking of something you want. I guess it can be general good luck, or more fish, or love," she batted her eyes at Toby. "Money, health, whatever you want."

Samuel shifted uneasily, hearing the overseers' words in his head.

_Magic is the tool of the Outsider. Even in the guise of something as innocent as a love spell or a luck charm, no matter how good the intention, magic soon corrupts the minds of those who use it._

But, Samuel kept his mouth shut, and Susannah continued.

"Do you have it?" she said. Toby nodded enthusiastically, and Samuel simply stared. Susannah closed her eyes. "Outsider, we, as humble humans, ask for your blessing. Please grant us our simple wishes. Surely your power is so great that it can be done with little effort. For our granted wishes, we give you tribute. We will speak the ancient words that give you life. May you feed upon them with joy. We will say them in thanks to you." Susannah opened her eyes and looked up. Samuel felt the room go cold as she spoke the incantation in a language he did not know. Toby's eyes were wide, filled with awe and excitement. Susannah raised her hands to Toby and Samuel, and soon, Toby was chanting with her. Susannah and Toby looked at Samuel, who remained silent, and Susannah gave him an encouraging smile. Samuel sighed and repeated the unknown words as best as he could. Their chanting bounced off the walls, echoing back at them until it seemed as though the room were filled with people, whispering, yelling, singing the words with reckless abandon. The chanting became easier for Samuel, and his heart beat faster. He felt exhilarated, as though he were riding a cart down a steep hill. He almost wanted to laugh. He looked across the table at Toby, who stared back at him with unseeing eyes.

A hand on Samuel's shoulder made him jump. It was Susannah. She had stopped chanting. Toby was silent as well, but he looked just as startled as Samuel felt, and Samuel eyed a hand on Toby's left shoulder. Samuel's heart beat in his throat.

Susannah withdrew her slim hands and put them on the table in front of her.

"Now the room is filled with ancient energy," she said. "This is the energy of the Outsider. He has given it to us so that our wishes may be granted."

Samuel's head hurt.

Susannah picked up the pencil and handed it to Toby.

"You can write your wish down on your scrap of paper, but don't show it to either of us. Roll it up when you're finished and tie it with the twine," Susannah said.

Toby looked around for a moment, as though he were unsure of what to write. He seemed to remember after a moment and ducked his head, putting the pencil to the paper.

Samuel, not wanting to see what Toby was writing, looked at Susannah instead. Her cat eyes were fixed on the candle in front of her.

Once Toby had finished writing, he rolled up the paper, just as Susannah had instructed, and wrapped it with the twine. It was Samuel's turn now. Toby passed the pencil to him.

Samuel let the pencil hover over the paper. He realized that he had never actually thought of anything to say. His mind skimmed over his options.

Money, happiness, love. Did he want love? After more consideration, Samuel came up with a reasonable wish. His eyes dropped to the paper in front of him.

_Good health for the family._

He handed the pencil over to Susannah and rolled and tied his scrap of paper. Susannah was ready by the time Samuel had finished tying the twine. She held her roll of paper up in her right hand.

"Now we burn it." She hovered her paper over the flame of the candle until it caught fire. The yellow and orange danced down the white of the scrap of paper, turning the top instantly black. Smoke rose from the top of it all, giving it the appearance of being alive with breath. Susannah let the paper burn for a bit and then set it in the stone bowl. She nodded at Toby, who did the same with his rolled sheet.

Now, it was Samuel's turn. The paper caught quickly, bringing warmth to Samuel's hand and face. He watched the fire for a bit. It crackled, blackened, and shriveled the paper.

_As fire does to skin,_ thought Samuel. He remembered one night when he was young. Despite the protests of Ma, Pa had taken him to the High Winter festival.

"It's not like it's the Fugue Feast," Samuel remembered Pa saying, quite loudly, to Ma. Ma eventually gave in, bending down to give Samuel a long, smothering hug. Pa yanked him away, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack. Samuel had loved that. He giggled all the way out the door and up the road.

There was nothing particularly obscene at the festival. The adults stumbled about, high on their spirits. The smell of ale filled the air. A few children, even younger than Samuel, ran around and through legs and skirts.

He had told Pa that he was hungry, and Pa took him to the middle of the crowd, where a large pig roasted over a fire. Samuel had never seen a whole pig being cooked, but he had seen live pigs before. This pig looked like the live one, but it was stiff with shiny, browned skin, decorated with deep cracks. He watched as a man reached toward the skin and tore a piece off. The thin strip curled between his fingers, and he stuck it in his mouth, crunching at it and licking the grease from his shiny digits. Samuel had asked Pa why the pig's skin was cracked.

"That's what fire does to skin," Pa said. "You've knelt in front of a warm fire, and I'm sure you know what happens when you get too close to it."

"It hurts." Little Samuel wrinkled his nose.

"That's right," said Pa. "It hurts because it burns your skin, and that's what happens to it. It cracks and flakes and turns black."

"Even _my_ skin?" Samuel looked up at Pa with worried eyes.

"Yes, even your skin, but don't worry," Pa gave his son a short grin. "As long as you're careful around fire, you'll be fine. Unless, of course, someone wants to cook you and eat you."

Little Samuel's eyes grew wider.

"No!" he said, hiding his eyes behind his hands. Pa bent down, taking Samuel's small hands and holding them in his large ones.

"Only witches eat people," he said. "There are no witches here, so you don't have to worry. The overseers keep them away." Samuel's face relaxed a bit.

"Like Overseer Morris?" he asked.

"Yes, like Overseer Morris and all the other overseers you see at the Sermon Hall every week." Pa stood, holding Samuel close to his hip, and Samuel hugged his father.

"I'm glad the overseers are here to protect us," said Samuel.

Pa nodded.

"So am I."

Samuel felt his stomach heave and released the paper from his fingers, letting it fall into the bowl. It soon turned to ashes, and now the bowl was full of black, flaky dust.

Susannah stood and turned around, taking the bowl to the end of the room behind her. Samuel and Toby looked at each other and then got up to follow her. Susannah knelt on the ground, and soon Toby and Samuel had knelt on either side of her. Susannah had set the bowl down on a black platform. Another bowl, this one filled with water, sat next to it along with a pouch filled with something jagged. Behind the platform was a series of splintered, wooden planks and pointed, metal scraps, tied together with wire, and leaning against the grill of metal and wood was...

"A rune," Samuel said aloud. It seemed to glow with an unnatural blue light.

"Wow," said Toby, reaching out to touch it. Susannah lightly took his arm, setting his hand down next to hers on the ground.

"We're not quite finished yet," she said. She took a pinch from the bowl of ashes and sprinkled the black dust into the water. "This is sea water," she said. "The salty water of the oceans and seas is associated with the Outsider. It is said that he lives in a place filled with this water, but you can breathe it in, as though it were air. Objects hover in it, suspended. Even the land floats."

"Where did you learn that?" asked Toby.

"From my books," she said. "You find people selling all kinds of things when you spend your time by the road."

"I'd love to meet people traveling along the road," said Toby.

"Oh yes, they come from all over the place. The Coast Road is a popular route for those traveling around Gristol," Susannah said with a smile. "Maybe, you can come help me out one day. I think you would make an excellent vendor."

"I don't know about that," Toby said, blushing.

Samuel listened to their conversation as he stared blankly at the altar in front of him. Suddenly, he felt very out of place.

"Samuel?" Samuel turned to the voice. "It's your turn," said Susannah. "Sprinkle some of the ashes into the water bowl."

Samuel leaned forward, keeping his arm far away from the rune, and reached over to take a pinch of ashes. The flakes dissolved into dust between his fingers. He moved his hand toward the bowl of water and let go of the ashes. They floated on top of the liquid, following each other in a circle.

Toby went next, and then Susannah dipped a finger into the water and mixed the ashes into it. Millions of little black specks danced in the water, making it seem almost light gray. Susannah wiped her finger on the side of her dress and took the pouch from the altar.

"Hold out your hand," she said to Samuel. Samuel did as he was told, and as Susannah hovered the upturned bag over his hand, he felt something hard and cold fall into his palm. It was an odd shape with many pointed prongs. Susannah moved the bag away, and Samuel viewed the mystery item he held in his hand. He recognized it immediately. He had seen one before. Actually, he had seen many. Sometimes they washed up on the beach. Fisherman and boatmen discreetly wore them around their necks, but Pa wouldn't tolerate anything of the sort in his house.

"Goddamn tradition, my ass," Pa would say. "They say it's just a harmless superstition, but I say it's heresy."

Many of the same men who wore them attended the sermons given by the overseers, and Samuel assumed that most supported the Abbey as well. Like Pa had said, they thought it was just a harmless superstition.

The surface of the whalebone charm was smooth against his fingers. Samuel looked over at Susannah as she placed her charm in the salt water. She held it in the bowl for a few seconds before taking it out again.

"The bone charm is charged with my intentions and the Outsider's energy," she said. "Now, you two go ahead."

Samuel let Toby go first, watching as his brother dropped his charm into the bowl and then retrieved it again. The water dripped from his hands and sprinkled the surface of the altar as he withdrew his arm. It was Samuel's turn now. The water was lukewarm, not cold as he had thought. He felt the familiar sting of seawater against the dry, chaffed skin of his hand, and a few bubbles rose to the top of the water as Samuel pushed the charm into the bowl. The rippling surface of the liquid distorted the charm, making it look rubbery and alive. He took the bone charm from the water and looked down at the pieces of whale bone in his wet, upturned palm.

"Wear your charm for good luck," said Susannah. Samuel looked over at Toby, but Toby simply smiled at Susannah.

"Okay," he said. "I will." Samuel had to laugh.

"Pa would _never_ let you wear that thing in the house," he said.

Toby's face and ears turned red.

"I don't care what Pa says," Toby declared, sitting up straight and puffing out his chest. "Plus, maybe if I'm lucky, Pa'll kick me out of the house, and I can come live here with Susannah." Samuel looked at Susannah skeptically, but the thin girl smiled encouragingly at Toby.

"That's what I like about you, Tobias," she said, her voice like velvet. "You do what you want. You don't let others run your life."

"Like you," grumbled Samuel.

Susannah turned her head, locking her eyes - now thin slits on her pointed face - onto his. The green of her irises seemed to flash yellow with proud defiance, as though Susannah were daring Samuel to challenge her. Samuel almost expected her to grow claws and take a swipe at him.

"Yes," Susannah paused for emphasis. "Like. Me." She turned up her sharp nose, standing and pulling Toby up with her. She took his hand and gave him her mischievous smile. Toby smiled drunkenly as Susannah pulled his face to hers, giving him a deep, long kiss.

Samuel stood to head toward the door. He considered leaving the bone charm on the altar, but he stuck it in his pocket instead.

Samuel made his way back through the cellar, leaving the kissing couple to themselves. His lungs rejoiced at the fresh air that rushed into them as he stepped outside. As he waited in the grassy field, Samuel thought back to his first girlfriend. Of course Susannah wasn't Toby's first girlfriend, but Samuel was not so lucky when it came to women. He stumbled and stuttered and blushed, his usual self-assurance abandoning him and leaving him to fend for himself in the face of danger.

He had met his first girlfriend around three years ago. Toby had dragged him to the local Fisherman's Dance. There was a saying in Old Pier that was usually repeated to men whose wives had left them: _There are plenty of fish in the sea_. The Fisherman's Dance gave rise to a new part of the saying: _So, go snag yourself one at the Fisherman's Dance_. Later on, another part was added: _If you don't like the one you caught, you can throw it right back and catch another one!_ This was usually followed by a bout of raucous laughing, stomping and whooping and sometimes followed by a few obscene, lesser-repeated comments about hooks and bait.

The hall was loud and hot, and although Samuel enjoyed the music, he was not much of a dancer. Toby ran off almost immediately to find some girl he had met last year at the dance, leaving Samuel to wander though bodies, buzzing with excitement, by himself. He found the refreshment table and poured himself a mug of cider from a large keg. It was thick and bitter. Samuel grimaced, leaving the mug to sit, unwanted, in his hand. A dancing couple swung by him, nearly making Samuel spill the cider all over himself. He stepped back, avoiding the drunken dancers, and leaned against a wall. He scanned the room for Toby but couldn't spot him.

_He's probably off kissing some girl,_ he thought. At least he _hoped_ Toby was only kissing. The room seemed to grow hotter, and Samuel found himself sweating. He turned toward the door, tempted by the thought of the cool, night air. He sighed. There was nothing for him here.

He traveled toward the door, dodging the dancers once again. After maneuvering around a large, sweaty man, Samuel turned to face the door again, but the large man had made his way back to Samuel. He ran into him, pushing him forward. Samuel stumbled, trying to keep his balance, but he felt his feet slip, and soon he was falling. Suddenly, he stopped. The ground was still a safe distance away from his face, and two arms held his shoulders from the front. He looked up to see a dull, pink dress, darkened and smelling of cider. His unknown savior gave him a push until he was back on his feet. He looked down again, realizing that the stranger was shorter than him and female. The girl looked up at him, her blue eyes scanning his face.

"You should probably lay off the ale for tonight," she said, giggling.

"Uh - " Samuel almost fell again. The girl reached her hands out.

"Good thing I was here," she said. "You would've broken your pretty face on the floor. It would be such a shame." She gave him a wide half-smile. Her face was freckled, and her nose was flat, but her smile was bright as the sun. Her brown hair was pulled back into a simple bun, and her arms were toned and solid. Her eyes...

"We have the same eyes," said Samuel, dazed.

"Yeah, I guess we do," she said. "I'm Sophie."

"Sophie," said Samuel. "It's nice." They stared at each other, until Sophie broke the silence.

"What's your name?" she said.

"Oh," Samuel felt himself blush. "My name is Samuel." He looked down at Sophie's dress. "Sorry for spilling cider on you."

After the mishap at the dance, Samuel dated Sophie for over a year, but over time Sophie grew restless. At first, Samuel had gone along with Sophie's spontaneity, challenging himself to do what Sophie could. The couple grew comfortable, though, and soon Sophie was bored with Samuel. There was no big fight to mark the end of their relationship. They simply grew apart. They saw each other less and less, until they stopped bothering to visit each other at all.

Samuel looked out at the field. Fireflies danced in the air looking like live stars in the night sky. He considered leaving without Toby, figuring that his brother would not expect him to wait.

_I'll at least get a head start_ , he thought. He looked back at the cellar door one more time before taking off into the grassy field and through the stalks of corn.

The night didn't feel so cold now. Samuel made his way through the cornfield, blind but sure. The crickets were deafening, drowning out the rustling of the corn stalks as he swept past them. Soon, he was back to the main road. He made a right, trudging down the path. The night did not seem so dangerous anymore. Walking in the dark alone was almost - peaceful. Samuel put his hands in his pockets and felt the charm he had chosen to take with him. Suddenly, he felt the weight of the bone charm pulling him toward the ground. The air grew heavy, crushing Samuel's weighted body. There was no breeze, and the night had turned silent. The stars seemed to blink out one by one. The bone charm, still in Samuel's hand, grew hot. He took it out of his pocket and held it to his face. It looked the same, but now it sang. An intensely low hum accompanied by a high whistle pierced through the silence. The singing filled Samuel's ears and vibrated throughout his body. Under the singing, Samuel could make out words. Ancient words, full of magic. He could feel his heart beating in his ears. He shook his head, grasping the charm tightly in his fingers.

_I should have never taken this,_ he thought. He brought his arm back and rapidly pushed it forward, but before he could release the charm from his clasped hand, he heard something familiar. It had been soft but clear, like a plea for mercy. For forgiveness. He brought his hand down, studying the charm once again. It looked the same, and it was even cooling down. He thought about throwing it away again, but Samuel couldn't help but almost feel bad for the charm. He was tempted to apologize to it for trying to get rid of it. He took a deep breath and laughed under his breath. It was silly. He didn't believe in magic. The ritual had spooked him. The night had returned to normal, and Samuel started walking again. He reassured himself that it was all superstition, but he could still hear the bone charm in his head. The word it had said to him when he tried to throw it away.

_Samuel._

He shivered. He could always throw the bone charm away tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel heads to the sermon hall and gets a glimpse into the life of an overseer. The Beechworth family reunites at the dinner table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The definition of "rite of passage" used in this chapter is based off that of Victor Turner.

* * *

The sunlight hit Samuel like the water of an ice lake. Morning seemed to have arrived instantaneously from the moment his head dropped to the worn pillow on the rickety loft floor. The room downstairs was alive with sound. Banging, clacking, scraping and the occasional spoken word filled the small, one room shack, and Samuel had no excuse to not get out of bed. Toby's spot next to him was empty. Samuel wondered if his brother had gotten home last night from Susannah's house. Ma answered his question as soon as his feet hit the creaky first floor.

"Samuel," she said, smiling. She seemed to have more energy than usual. Her face was bright, and her body was steady. She hugged Samuel and stood on her toes to kiss him on the forehead.

"Morning, Ma," he said sleepily, giving her a sloppy grin.

"You didn't see Toby leave early, did you?" Ma said, her smile fading slightly.

"No," said Samuel, rubbing the back of his head. "No, I haven't seen him since last night." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Alright," Ma said, shrugging.

"He should be fine," Samuel reassured her. "He can take care of himself."

"When he's not getting into trouble," Pa said loudly from across the room.

"He'll be fine," Samuel said, ignoring Pa and giving Ma a short squeeze on the shoulder.

Samuel went outside to do his normal morning routine, making sure to shave as well. The backyard was more alive than it had been the day before. Families wound their way around their sections of the backyard, mothers and fathers tripping over sons and daughters. Sermon was today, which meant that most of Old Pier was probably awake and doing the same thing.

Sermon took place on the first day of the week in a small wooden hall in the middle of town. It was run by the few local overseers. Mostly, residents of Old Pier attended every week, but some of the country folk made their way to the town as well to hear the overseers speak. Sermon was led by Overseer Morris, the oldest overseer in town. He was well-loved in Old Pier, having led the local sermons for over twenty years. He made a point of walking through town most days, greeting children and counseling adults. Many came to him with problems, and he always stopped to listen and give advice. It was Abbey advice, promoting discipline and conformity, but both were needed for a small fishing village to run smoothly.

Samuel headed back inside, tucking his shirt into his best pair of pants. They were nothing fancy, but most people tried to at least look clean when going to Sermon. Ripped and patched shirts were replaced by clean ones made of scratchy, cheap material, pants and shoes were scrubbed clean. Ma had readied Samuel's boots, placing them by the door. They were still old, but the mud that usually decorated them had disappeared, revealing cracked and stained leather.

Breakfast was a simple meal of bread and tinned hagfish. Sometimes, they were lucky enough to have bacon or eggs, but that was usually only after a trip to Potterstead. Occasionally, a farmer would wander into town, selling some meat or vegetables, but most townsfolk waited until they traveled to the local city, their purchases discounted because of the fish they supplied to the market.

Samuel shoved a chunk of hagfish into his mouth, next tearing at the bread, which was crusty and cool. Pa had finished eating and was brushing the dirt from his jacket. Samuel remembered his own jacket, which he had thrown in the corner of the loft before falling asleep, and in the pocket...

He stood suddenly.

"Are you finished, Samuel?" asked Ma.

"Yeah," Samuel said, chewing the food remnants in his mouth. He bolted up the ladder and crouched, making his way toward the other side of the loft. The jacket lay where Samuel had left it, a pile of dirty cloth among the many blankets. He grabbed the jacket, turning it a few times until he could reach into the pocket. He pulled a few large corn kernels out of one. Chucking the kernels away, he tried the other pocket. The bony prongs of the charm poked his fingers. He could not take the bone charm with him to Sermon. He covered it with his hand and took it out of the pocket, tempted to open his fingers and peak at his newfound contraband. He resisted the urge and stuffed it under his pillow. He could move it when he returned.

Outside, Samuel could hear voices shouting and laughing. Children ran past him toward the town's center. Ma, wearing a simple brown skirt and white blouse, her hair pulled back into a bun, stepped out of the house behind him. Samuel took her arm, holding it in his own.

"I remember when you were that young, Samuel," Ma said, the skin around her aged eyes crinkling. "So amazed by everything. You loved the overseers." She laughed softly. "I remember, one day I held you in my arms, talking to Overseer Morris. You reached out and tried to take his mask from him. I apologized, but the overseer just laughed and said, 'Most children try to take my blade or my pistol. If it's just my mask, I don't think it's much of a problem.' I knew then that he believed he was looking at a future overseer. Sometimes I even worried that one night they would come and take you away, but they never did. I guess they just wanted you to make your own decision."

Pa arrived from inside, closing the door behind him.

"I guess we'll go," he said, reaching for his wife's other arm.

"I can walk, you two!" Ma said, snatching her arms away from both Pa and Samuel. Pa shrugged, and Samuel turned toward the hall, his parents walking side by side behind him.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Toby?" Ma said.

"I'm sure," said Samuel, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

"Maybe he'll meet us there," she said. Pa just sighed.

The outside of the small, wooden sermon hall was crowded with people gathering to make their way into the double doors of the structure. Samuel was used to the hall being packed. He had heard that the giant halls in the cities had benches where people sat comfortably while listening to the overseer, his voice echoing off the marble walls. In Old Pier, that was not the case. The hall was crowded and hot, and benches only took up space, so the overseers never bothered to set them up. Townsfolk, old and young, stood before the podium, bumping shoulders and stepping on feet. Children sat up on the shoulders of their pa's, uncles and older brothers, and women waved makeshift fans of straw and paper in front of their sweating faces.

The hall was filled with the rumble of soft conversation as Samuel, Pa, and Ma entered. They did not arrive early and had not walked too far into the room before they could not move forward anymore. More bodies closed in around them. Samuel scanned the room. Even if he believed Toby was in the hall, he would not be able to see him.

 _He's probably still with Susannah,_ he thought and tried to imagine what they could be doing. He regretted it immediately, shaking his head, and turned to talk to Ma and Pa instead.

"Trade places with your Ma," Pa said when Samuel caught his eye.

"Oh, Samuel, you don't need to do that," Ma said, looking from him to Pa.

"It's okay, Ma," Samuel said, holding her shoulders to guide her past him as he took her place next to Pa.

"Thank you Samuel. You're a sweet boy," said Ma, reaching back to give him a small hug.

The crowd fell silent, and Samuel directed his attention toward the front of the hall where a group of overseers entered the room from a small door. They spread across the wall, until two stood on either side of the podium, and one, Overseer Morris, stood behind it. He cleared his throat.

"Dear residents of Old Pier and visitors, alike, good morning."

"Good morning," Samuel said, along with the rest of the townsfolk.

"By being here today, whether this is your first time or your hundredth, you are one step closer to righteousness, to responsibility, to dedication, and you are one step away from the dangers of the spirits that seek to harm you. They wait for us, watching, ready to pounce. If any of us should slip but once, they will grab us, their prey, by the feet and drag us away from all we seek as humans of this world. I bid you all, hear my words and take heed of the temptation that drags us all down. The ease and convenience of lust, the physical comfort of stuffing our bellies, the shimmer of gold, the empty promises of magic. These will tear you from your families, from your work, the work that you accomplished with your own hands. All will be dark, and you will wander blind, unrecognizable from the man you once were.

"We are here for you. We will stay here for you. If you need guidance, we will hold out our hands and show you the way, and should you stray too far from the path of man, should you give into those temptations and let the spirits feed off of you, we will cut you down and set you free. Once you are free of life, the spirits will cling to you no more. Once again, you will be able to travel the righteous path, cleansed of your burden.

"The industrious man has his own power. He need not use magic to grab for more. He has all the skill he needs. In his hands, his voice, his body. Remember these blessings you possess. Do not give into greed. Take what belongs to you, but take no more than that. Remember your place here among your people. When you give into temptation you endanger not only yourself, but those around you as well. Would you put your family in harm's way to gain more than you deserve? Choose to be the good man. Your decision will save all of us in the end." Overseer Morris fell silent and looked down at the podium before scanning the audience in front of him.

"Please take note of our special visitors today." He gestured toward the back of the room, and Samuel turned around to see two overseers standing in the open doorway. Overseer Morris continued. "Overseers Korey and Jarrell from Potterstead will be joining us for the sermon. Please welcome them." The townsfolk clapped, turning back to the front of the hall.

The two overseers looked gravely over the crowd, and Samuel shuddered. Of course, all overseers looked menacing at first glance. Their masks featured bronze scowls with angry eyes, but once he got to know the overseers, Samuel found that the masks did not reflect the people underneath. He did not know these two, though, and their unfamiliarity made them seem threatening. It was silly. They were probably just as kind as the overseers in Old Pier, but Samuel found it difficult to shake the feeling.

Overseer Morris continued. "Now, Overseer Wright will tell us of his first trip to the city of Whitecliff, and then Overseer Samson will recall for us his first experience as a witness to the trial of a heretic. After that, Overseer Pinkas will speak of a very significant experience he had in Dunwall, spotting a witch in disguise, and Overseer Frank will tell us about his first day in Old Pier. I will then read for you an excerpt from the Litany on the White Cliff, and in conclusion, we will recite the Seven Strictures. Overseer Wright?" Morris gestured toward the overseer on the far left.

Overseer Wright stepped up to the podium, folding his hands behind his back.

"Good morning," he said. The crowd replied. "I decided to become an overseer when I was twenty years old. My father owned a bakery, and I worked as his assistant. One night, my father died suddenly in his sleep. I was devastated. All of a sudden, I was on my own. My father's dream was to open a bakery, and he worked hard to achieve it, but it was not my dream. I had no idea how to run a business. I could bake, but that was it. How was I to run my father's bakery without him? Scared and alone, I ran from my responsibilities.

"At first, I wanted to go to Dunwall. There are plenty of distractions in the city, but I did not have that much money. I came across a group that was traveling to Whitecliff to see the great stronghold of the Abbey of the Everyman. They told me that it was a popular traveling destination for the faithful, so I decided to go there with them.

"Upon our arrival, I could see the great cliff in the distance. We climbed a very steep hill for what seemed like an eternity. Finally we arrived at an arched gate. The overseers let us in after inquiring after our business in Whiteciff, and we made our way into the city. Soon, we found ourselves surrounded by people from all over. There were people like us from small towns in Gristol, and there were people from Tyvia, Serkonos, and even a few from Morley. We wandered about the white cobblestone streets, stopping to look at the overseers coming from the Benjamin Holger Seminary, where future overseers are trained. We found a place where we could get a closer look at the cliff where the overseer initiations take place. I was in awe. The city was beautiful. But of course, tourists are always charmed when visiting a new place, never wanting to leave. However, that changed when I heard my first Great Sermon.

"The sermon hall was colossal and made of shining white and gray marble. Overseers lined the walls, welcoming us to their city. I found a place on a bench, and an overseer came out to speak. Overseer Willis. He was tall with a large frame. He held up his hands, and the room fell silent. Then he spoke. His voice was great and clear and rich, like heavy cream. He spoke of the Abbey and the people and the Outsider. He spoke of spirits, morality, mistakes, and change. I felt as though he spoke directly to me, his eyes connecting with mine, telling me that it was my duty to do as they did. The overseers. It would have been irresponsible for me to ignore it, so after the sermon, I marched into the Seminary. They tested me, and it was not easy, but I made it through and began my training to become an overseer.

"Now, as I stand before you, I have been an overseer for nine years. These nine years have been the best of my life. Never before has my mind been so clear. I have a purpose. I know where I am going and what I need to do. It is a great feeling and a great privilege. So, I urge any of you who feel drawn to the Abbey to visit Whitecliff. If you were meant to go on to become an overseer, you will know once you enter the sermon hall and hear Overseer Willis speak, and you will never have another unclear moment for the rest of your life."

Overseer Wright stepped down from the podium, and the audience clapped. Samuel found himself looking at the Overseer, who had returned to his place on the far left. He stood still and proud, his eyes fixed in one place. Never moving, he represented discipline and dedication. The next overseer had started speaking, and Samuel returned his attention to the podium, making a mental note to speak to Overseer Wright after the sermon.

* * *

After giving his closing sermon to the townsfolk, Overseer Morris dismissed them, and Samuel waited outside next to the doors as people filed out of the hall. Energized by the sermon, they talked and laughed loudly, greeting friends and acquaintances.

"Samuel," he heard a raspy voice say. Samuel turned around and looked down. Old Mrs. Hart stood in front of him, her curly, gray hair disheveled by the wind.

"Hello, Mrs. Hart," he said, bending down to give the old woman a hug. He had known Mrs. Hart since he was a little boy, usually staying at her house for hours after bringing her a loaf of bread from Ma or some fish from Pa. Mrs. Hart, an avid chain smoker, would have Samuel sit in her old rocker while she puffed on a cigarette, usually asking him the same questions during every visit.

"How old are you now, Samuel?" she would say in her scratchy, low voice. Samuel would answer politely, even though he probably told her his age at least once a week.

Mrs. Hart looked up at Samuel through her faded eyes, full of cataracts. No matter how bad her vision was, she always knew him.

"I've missed you, Samuel," she said slowly, putting a wrinkled hand on his arm. Her voice was sluggish, as though talking was an effort for her. "I miss our visits. I loved talking with you. You've always been such a bright boy."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hart," said Samuel. "I miss talking to you too."

"Mrs. Hart!" Samuel heard Ma's voice not too far behind him. She stood next to Samuel, taking Mrs. Hart's hands. Pa arrived shortly after.

"Oh, Amelia! John!" Mrs. Hart said, "I was just telling Samuel how much I miss him. We used to talk all the time." Her thin mouth turned upward into a smile.

"Well, there's no reason for you two not to talk. Why don't I make you a loaf of bread, and I'll have Samuel bring it over?" Ma said.

"You don't have to do that, although," Mrs. Hart stopped, considering Ma's offer. "I _do_ love your bread, Amelia. I wouldn't mind tasting it again."

"I'll bring it over sometime this week," said Samuel.

"Oh, that sounds exciting," Mrs. Hart said. "I'll make us some lemonade. You always loved lemonade, Samuel. With a bit of mint."

"That sounds great," Samuel said, smiling.

"How about we walk you home, Mrs. Hart?" said Pa.

"Lovely," she said. "I love company."

"I'm going to stay," Samuel said. "I want to talk to one of the overseers." Pa patted Samuel's shoulder.

"Alright, son," he said. "When you get back home, why don't you help your Ma out for the day? I'm headed to the warehouse." Samuel nodded.

"Bye, Mrs. Hart," he said, waving. "I'll see you at the house, Ma." Pa and Ma turned to walk down the dirt path, holding Mrs. Hart's arms. Samuel could hear the old woman chattering in her raspy voice.

The crowd had cleared out, and only a few people lingered, talking to the overseers. Samuel slowly made his way toward Overseer Wright, who was talking to an older man.

"I know my son is off somewhere doing his best," Samuel heard the man say. "I know it. He had to have made it through. He was strong. Both my wife and I..." his voice trailed off. Samuel took a closer look and recognized the man as Mr. Holloway. Samuel had seen him walking around town. The man was not very well-liked, although he seemed nice enough. Ma and Pa would not tell Samuel why Mr. Holloway was so unpopular with the townsfolk, but Toby was happy enough to fill him in on the local gossip.

"Supposedly," Toby said to him. "Mrs. Holloway was a witch. Some of the town cats and dogs went missing, and one of the neighbors said that she saw Mrs. Holloway burning animals and talking when nobody was near. The neighbor told the overseers, and they took her away. They had a little son, the Holloways, but soon, the overseers took him, too. To Whitecliff."

Samuel had never liked the idea of overseers taking children in the middle of the night, even if the boys were to become overseers themselves. He wondered if he would have made it through the trials if he had been taken as a child. Upon hearing Toby's story, Whitecliff seemed like some ominous place where children were kept chained in dungeons, but as Samuel got to know the local overseers, he knew that it couldn't be true. Overseer Wright's story only confirmed his belief. The children were probably treated well in the city of white cobblestone and marble halls. The ones that did not make it probably did not prepare well enough. They did not work hard enough. Samuel thought that death was a harsh punishment for failing a test, but he figured the overseers had their reasons.

Overseer Wright nodded as Mr. Holloway talked, holding the old man's arms.

"Of course, Mr. Holloway. I'm sure your son has become a fine overseer and is off somewhere doing his duty as a protector of the people," said Wright in his smooth voice. Mr. Holloway relaxed and smiled.

"I'm glad you say that, Overseer. I just couldn't bear the thought of both him and my wife being - Well, I know my wife brought it upon herself, but my boy - "

"If you believe that your son deserved to pass, then he did, Mr. Holloway. You can rest easy, knowing your son is not only alive and well, but happy without the burden that most others must bear of being unsure of their destinies. You can be proud of him."

"Oh, thank you, Overseer," Mr. Holloway said smiling. He shook Wright's hand with both of his and then hobbled away, his knobby knees shaking back and forth.

"Have a good day, Mr. Holloway," Overseer Wright called after him. The old man waved in reply. Wright turned to find Samuel waiting for him. He waved him over.

"Samuel, how good to see you. Did you wish to discuss something with me?" he said.

"I just want to speak with you for a moment. About your trip to Whitecliff," Samuel said. The Overseer's mask scowled at him, but the eyes behind it were kind.

"Of course, Samuel," said Overseer Wright. "I am glad to see you showing interest in the Abbey. I hear that you're considering becoming an overseer someday."

"Er, yes," Samuel said. "I just wanted to know - I know you said that you wanted to become an overseer after hearing Overseer Willis speak. Do you think that it would be a good idea for me to travel to Whitecliff to hear him? Will it really make a difference?" Overseer Wright nodded.

"I do believe it will make a difference. After hearing him speak, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to be an overseer. There was no doubt in my mind at all. It is a great feeling." He touched Samuel's shoulder. "Are you planning on traveling to Whitecliff, my boy?"

"I don't know." Samuel rubbed the back of his head. "The farthest I've ever traveled is to Potterstead, and Whitecliff is a long way away."

"Well, you _are_ growing up. Do you know what a rite of passage is, Samuel?" asked the Overseer.

"Yes," said Samuel.

"What is it?"

"It's... " Samuel struggled to think of a definition. Overseer Wright waited patiently. "It's like a test," Samuel said. "A test to gain passage into another part of your life."

"Yes, good," said the Overseer. "But if I may give you a more precise definition, a rite of passage is a ritual composed of three stages. There is the beginning stage, where you are separated from your current self, your life, your identity. You are taken to the middle stage, which is impermanent and in constant flux. It is not fully a place. It is where you end up once you have left your old self behind but have not yet become your new self. This is the test. It is full of danger, and it is not guaranteed that you will pass. This is where you must pull through to make it to the next stage. Then, you will be someone new. Someone better and stronger, your old self left and forgotten in the past. This is the first lesson I learned upon entering the Seminary. I went through my rite of passage there. Perhaps, this is your test, Samuel. This can be your rite of passage, from boyhood to manhood, if you let it become that. As an overseer and a guide to the common man, I recommend that you go to Whitecliff. See where your path takes you. It may be the most important journey of your life."

Samuel considered the Overseer's suggestion.

"Thank you, Overseer Wright. I will give that some thought," he said, nodding his head and then stepping backward, getting ready to leave. He stopped, stepping forward again.

"What do you do when you're not holding sermons or greeting people?" asked Samuel.

"That is a good question, Samuel," said the Overseer. "Sometimes I study quietly, reciting the Strictures to myself or reading the Litany on the White Cliff. Sometimes I relax and talk with the other overseers. We like to exchange stories of our pasts and of our training. Sometimes we practice our fighting skills and build up our strength. In all the time I've been here, there has not been much need for me to use my pistol or my blade, so I must keep training so that I do not forget what I have learned."

Samuel tried to imagine himself fighting.

"Have you ever had to kill anyone?" he asked.

"Me?" said Overseer Wright. "No. I have been in Old Pier for my entire career. We will find the occasional witch, but nobody has had the strength or skill to last against us for very long. We can easily subdue our target and deliver them to the overseers in Potterstead." Samuel remembered the two menacing overseers standing in the doorway of the hall.

"Is that why those two overseers are here? To find a witch?" His shoulders felt tense.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to discuss that with you, Samuel," he said. "Would you like to meet them? Maybe you can ask them about being an overseer in the city. They have more duties than overseers based in small towns and villages."

"Sure," Samuel said hesitantly. He gave the Overseer a smile. "I'd love to."

Overseer Wright led Samuel back into the hall, and they crossed to the other side of the large room, stopping by the podium. Overseer Wright took a key from the pocket of his robes and unlocked the small door from which the overseers had emerged before the sermon. The key turned with a hard scraping sound, and the door clicked loudly. Samuel followed Wright, closing the small door behind him.

Samuel stood with the Overseer in what he assumed was the house attached to the back of the hall.

"This is where we live," Overseer Wright said, stepping forward. "I'll give you a quick tour." Samuel followed him down a narrow hallway. Some of the rooms were open, and Samuel could see a kitchen with a simple wooden table surrounded by chairs and a small room filled with books. A poster of the Seven Strictures had been nailed to the wall. Samuel's shoulders brushed the sides of the cramped corridor as he walked, the floor creaking beneath his feet. He climbed a steep staircase that almost resembled a ladder. He found himself in another hallway and slowly walked behind Overseer Wright. Suddenly, the space opened, and he was in a small room.

"This is where we sleep," said Wright. Samuel stepped up beside Overseer Wright and studied the room. Flimsy bunk beds had been attached to the walls and covered with thin, white blankets and pillows. They took up one side of the room, while on the other were shoddily-built desks decorated with paper and books.

"A man of the faith lives modestly," Samuel said. "It makes sense." Honestly, Samuel liked the small house. It was cozy, and the overseers lived as a family, sharing their space and time together. Plus, each one had his own bed. Samuel smiled at the thought of _that_ luxury.

"It isn't glamorous," said Overseer Wright.

"It shouldn't be," Samuel said, shrugging. "Do you like living here?" Wright met Samuel's eyes.

"I love it," he said.

"I think I'd like it too," Samuel said. The Overseer brushed past him, and the two went back downstairs.

The overseers, their house being located in the middle of town, had their own backyard. Overseer Wright led Samuel outside. The backyard was different from Samuel's, having been set up for combat practice. One overseer stood to the left, his arm outstretched as he aimed his pistol at a glass bottle on a stand. Another overseer watched off to the side. Overseer Wright waved him over.

"How can you tell each other apart?" Samuel said.

"How could you tell me apart from the other overseers when you came to talk to me?" asked Overseer Wright.

"I don't know," said Samuel. "I guess I've known you all for so long, so I can tell." He stopped and grinned.

"Exactly," said Wright.

The overseer from across the yard arrived, and Overseer Wright introduced him.

"Overseer Jarrell, this is Samuel, a local boy who is considering becoming an overseer." Overseer Jarrell nodded.

"Hello, son," he said in a deep voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Samuel said, nodding back.

"Did you want to ask me some questions, boy?" he said, crossing his arms.

"Yes," said Samuel. "I... " Samuel realized he hadn't thought of any questions.

"Please understand, boy, that I do not have much time to talk," Overseer Jarrell said. "So ask your questions quickly. I must get back to practice. I have work to do soon." Overseer Wright shifted uncomfortably.

"Fellow Overseer," he said. "Samuel is a very kind and good boy. He is simply looking for some guidance. Is it not our job as overseers to take from our own time to help him?"

"It is our job, _fellow_ Overseer to protect the people from the evil spirits that relentlessly work to harm them. In order to do that, we must eliminate those who would be negative influences on them. Magic users. Witches. I have to say that none of you have been doing a very good job at it. Already, we have caught villagers casually walking around wearing _bone charms_. Did you know nothing of this?" Overseer Wright stayed quiet, and Jarrell continued, ignoring Samuel. "I may have to write to Whitecliff or even _Dunwall_ to report all of you for not doing your jobs. I would gladly see you all replaced by more competent overseers." He looked to Samuel. "Son, did you know that it is common for the people of your village to carry bone charms?"

"Y-Yes," Samuel stuttered. His throat was dry, and his voice sounded weak and feeble. Overseer Jarrell stepped close to him, his face closing in.

"You knew this and did not report it?"

"I just thought..." Samuel hesitated.

"Yes?" said the Overseer.

"I just thought it was a harmless tradition. They just wear them for good luck, not for practicing witchcraft. It's just a sailor's tradition... " he trailed off.

"Oh!" Jarrell said, mockingly. " 'A harmless tradition', you say." He laughed spitefully. "Ignorant fools, all of you. This place must be educated on the dangers of these charms. They are just as treacherous as runes. They hold the dark power of the Outsider. Every person who keeps a whalebone charm is under his influence." Jarrell backed off, and Samuel exhaled, not having realized that he was breathing shallowly.

"I didn't know they were so dangerous," said Samuel, trying to appeal to the Overseer. He made his voice sound confused, as though he were simply a victim of ignorance. "I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have turned them in. I rarely leave Old Pier, and I have never traveled far." He hoped he had been convincing.

"Of course, son," Jarrell said. "But now you know, so you have no excuse not to turn in the next person you see with a bone charm, yes?"

"Yes," agreed Samuel.

"Overseer Jarrell - " started Wright.

"Just one more thing, boy" Jarrell interrupted. "Does anyone in your family keep a bone charm? Your Pa, maybe? Do you have any siblings?"

Samuel opened his mouth to speak, but Jarrell spoke again.

"Do _you_ have a bone charm?" Samuel tried to imagine the man's face behind the mask, but he could only see the aggressive scowl covering it. Jarrell's eyes shined with cruelty. This man felt powerful as he stood over Samuel, and he loved it.

"No," Samuel said, keeping his eyes fixed on those of the towering overseer.

" 'No' to which question, boy?" Jarrell spat.

"All of them," Samuel said steadily, his voice more confident. Jarrell nodded, appearing to be satisfied.

"You really need to be tougher on these people if you want them to be protected, Overseer Wright" he said, folding his hands behind his back.

"They have been protected for the twenty years that Overseer Morris has been here," said Wright. Jarrell simply grunted and turned away, sauntering back to his former standing place to watch his partner shoot.

Wright sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry, Samuel," he said. "Overseers Jarrell and Korey see things _differently_ than we do here."

"I thought you all were sure of your duties," Samuel started. "You said - "

"I'm afraid I have some tasks to which I must attend, Samuel," said Overseer Wright. "Perhaps you should return home." Without another word he turned toward the house.

They were both silent as they walked toward the door leading to the hall. Overseer Wright pointed Samuel toward the exit and made his way down the narrow hallway. Samuel let himself out, leaving the door to the house unlocked.

The sun was blinding as Samuel crossed the threshold leading from the hall. The townspeople had fallen back into their regular routines, their hands and feet busy and productive. Samuel meandered down the road, thinking about the scene he had just witnessed.

He had never met an overseer from outside Old Pier until then, and he had just assumed that all of them were the same. Samuel shuddered at the thought of Korey or Jarrell visiting his house, and he quickened his pace, eager to get home to move the bone charm from under his pillow.

The house was warm and bright, the heat rushing out to meet Samuel as he pulled open the front door. Ma was nowhere in sight, and Samuel crossed the room and opened the back door.

Ma stood outside hanging up clean shirts and pants. She spotted Samuel as he stepped outside.

"Sweep the floor for me, would you?" Ma said, not bothering to look at her son as she reached up to pin a pair of Pa's pants to the clothesline.

"Sure, Ma," said Samuel.

"And bring in some firewood," she said. "And make sure the stove stays hot."

"Okay, Ma," Samuel said.

"Oh, and Samuel would you sweep the floor after you're finished with that?" she repeated.

"Ma... " said Samuel, "I already - "

"Samuel, I'm _busy_ , okay? Can you just do what I ask without arguing, please?" Ma reached down into the laundry basket for another pair of pants, looking slightly flustered.

"Are you okay, Ma?" Samuel asked, walking slowly toward her. She stopped working.

"Samuel, _what_ did I tell you? I can't have all these distractions!" she threw her hands up. Her normally soft voice grew shrill and thin.

"Okay, Ma," Samuel turned around. "I'll get the firewood, make sure the stove stays hot, and sweep the floor." Ma turned back to her work, not bothering to answer, and Samuel went inside.

The work was not especially difficult, but Samuel felt himself sweating. It was a hot day, and the house did not need to be any warmer, but Ma still insisted that he keep the stove burning. Samuel watched as Ma flitted from chore to chore, never slowing down. Sometimes she stopped one task and moved onto the next, leaving the first one forgotten. It was not usual for Samuel to help Ma out in the house during the day, so he did not know if her behavior was normal. Maybe she just lost herself in her chores, trying to pass the time by herself.

As Ma was distracted, Samuel took the time to hide his bone charm, this time burying it in the backyard under a loose pile of dirt. He packed it down well and looked around to make sure nobody had seen him. Samuel felt safe enough, so he returned to the house.

By the late afternoon, Ma had calmed down a bit and asked Samuel to help her with dinner.

"Wash your hands first," she said, taking potatoes out of a bag. Samuel left for the backyard to use the water pump. "And get under your nails too!" Ma yelled after him.

"I will, Ma," called Samuel. First he checked the pile of fresh dirt, stomping it down a few times more and hoping he would be able to find it again. Satisfied, he made his way to an empty bowl that sat atop a small, wooden counter. After filling the bowl at the pump, he replaced it, picking up a bar of soap and a scrub brush on his way back. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror attached to the outside of the house behind the counter. The rest of him looked clean enough, but his hands...

He looked down at his hands, noting the dirt that had built up under his fingernails. He wondered how old it was. He chuckled aloud at the thought that it was possible he had had the same dirt under his fingernails for years. Maybe even since the first time he dirtied his hands. Whenever he washed his hands, he ignored his fingernails, reasoning that they would just get dirty again the next day. Samuel took the brush, scrubbing his fingers until they were red and raw. He rinsed his sudsy hands in the bowl and held them up to his face. He still had a lot of work to do.

Ten minutes later, Samuel gave up. He threw the brush down, letting it splash into the bowl of water and dried his hands on an old rag.

"I think it's permanent," Samuel said as he entered the house.

"Hm? What's that, Samuel?" Ma said.

"My fingernails. I think the dirt under them is there to stay."

"Oh, nonsense," Ma said, dropping the knife she was using to cut the potatoes. She picked up a table knife, striding determinedly toward her son, and grabbed his right hand. Samuel didn't like the idea of what his mother was about to do. Suddenly, he felt coldness and pain as metal slid under his fingernail.

"Ma, no!" he said, snatching his hand away. The tip of his finger throbbed with pain. He put his hands behind his back, protecting them from Ma's invasive grasp.

"Sorry, Samuel, did that hurt?" Ma said, looking up at him innocently.

"Not too much, Ma," Samuel said, composing himself.

"Oh well," said Ma. "I guess you can take the clean blankets up to the loft. I can't have you cooking with dirty fingernails." Samuel decided not to argue and went outside to get the blankets.

Ma had hung the blankets outside to dry in the backyard. They weighed the clothesline down as they flopped sluggishly in the wind. Samuel pulled one off the line, throwing it over his shoulder, and decided to take down a few more. Five blankets later, the heavy fabric piled on both of Samuel's shoulders, weighed him down to capacity. He eyed the clothesline. There were only two more blankets left. He approached the far section of the line and dragged the next blanket down, holding onto it with his weighted arms. He stumbled, ungracefully grabbing for the nearest object to steady himself. He grasped the pole holding up the clothesline and reached for the last blanket. It came down easily, landing over his head and blinding him. Samuel froze, not quite sure what to do, not wanting to drop any of the clean blankets, and realizing that his arms were too weighed down to lift the blanket off of his head. He heard someone laugh in front of him.

"I want to push you _so_ bad right now, Samuel," Toby said, chuckling again.

"No," Samuel said. "Help me with these."

"You're being bossy today," said Toby. Samuel watched the silhouette of his brother as it moved to his left. "I feel like you'd only get caught like this once in a lifetime. How many blankets is that?"

"Please?" Samuel said, his arms starting to ache.

"I feel like I'd be passing up such a good opportunity, though," Toby said, as if pondering whether or not to attend an important party.

"Toby!" Samuel said, trying to sound angry. His muscles burned.

"What were you thinking?" Samuel could hear Toby behind him now. He felt hands on his back.

"Don't you _dare_ ," he said, trembling under the weight of the blankets.

"Where did everyone go?" Samuel heard Ma's voice coming from the doorway of the house. "Toby, help your poor brother," she said.

"Don't tell him that. Now, he's _definitely_ gonna push me," Samuel said under his breath. To Samuel's surprise, the blanket slid backward, exposing his head to fresh, flowing air. Toby trudged in front of Samuel, balling the blanket up under his arm. He grabbed a few more from Samuel, letting them drag on the ground as he took them inside. Samuel sighed, reminding himself to let Toby keep those blankets for himself.

Inside, Ma had started dinner. A rich, smoky scent wafted through the air. Toby scrambled up the ladder, nearly tripping on the blankets falling from his arms. He threw them in a pile on the loft floor and then hopped from the ledge, hitting the floor with a loud boom that rattled the walls and ceiling. Ma gasped loudly and jumped.

"Toby!" she said.

"Sorry, Ma," said Toby. He was always nicer to Ma than he was to Pa.

"Are you okay? Did you fall?" said Ma, turning from the stove to check on Toby.

"No, Ma," he said. "I jumped down."

"Oh," Ma said. The wrinkles on her face deepened. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Toby. You could hurt your feet. Or your knees. Or your head. Like that one time Samuel jumped from the roof."

"What?" gasped Toby. Samuel furrowed an eyebrow.

"I don't think that was me, Ma," he said.

"Of _course_ , it was," said Ma, turning to the stove again. "You wore those wooden planks on your arms, thinking you'd fly like a bird." She chuckled. "Your Pa had to use the money he'd been saving for our birthdays to get you fixed up."

"Pa saves money for our birthdays?" Toby asked with wide eyes. "Why hasn't he used any of it?" He looked around. Samuel shrugged.

"I didn't know he did that," Samuel said.

"I'm glad you're okay, Samuel. I was so scared when you hit the ground and didn't get back up." Tears welled up in Ma's eyes.

Samuel looked at Toby and then at Ma.

"Right," he said. "Well... I'm better now, Ma."

"I'm so glad you're okay," Ma repeated. "Toby, will you set the table, dear?"

"Yeah," mumbled Toby, heading toward the cabinets.

Samuel looked at Ma, worried, but the blankets were a more pressing matter. He pushed his way up the ladder, shoving the blankets over his head and into the loft with a grunt. Once the blankets made it to their destination, Samuel set out to organize them. The quilts were clean, so he put them in his own space and gave the dirty blankets to Toby. He set out the rest of the clean blankets for Ma and Pa and returned to the main room.

Toby had set the table. The dishes were chipped and stained from years of use. Samuel remembered when they first got the dishes. They had been eating on tin and wooden plates before then, but Pa came home from Potterstead one evening with a stack of ceramic dishes under his arm.

"Presents!" Pa said, beaming. Samuel and Toby had run to Pa, thinking they were getting sweets or toys, but when they saw the plates, they weren't too excited. Ma smiled and hurried over to take the dishes from under Pa's arm.

"They're beautiful!" she said. They were white with a small green and pink flower design around the outside. "How did you get these?" Ma asked.

"Some peddler from Serkonos was selling these for cheap at the market. I figured he'd probably dug them out of some aristocrat's trash, but I figured it's no use letting them go to waste," said Pa. Ma put the stack on the table and held a dish up to her face. She examined it, running her fingers over the edge and surface.

"These might be the nicest things we own now," Ma said, looking up at Pa.

"I know," said Pa. "You're welcome." Ma came closer to Pa.

"Thank you, John," she said, hugging his neck. Little Samuel and Toby watched the scene, not really understanding why their parents were so excited.

Of course, the family owned nicer things now, having purchased a fishing boat with a motor - the result of many missing birthday presents. Samuel picked up a dish, running his finger over the edge and surface. The plate was full of divots, and the edge was rough. Samuel's fingertip caught on a chip.

"Put that down, Samuel. You'll break it," said Ma, waving a rag at him. She picked up a hot pan and set it on the table. It was fish, as usual. Samuel never grew tired of it, but Toby complained about the lack of food variety as though he hadn't grown up in the Beechworth house and was used to eating fine meals everyday.

"Ugh," Toby groaned.

"Don't start," said Samuel.

"I'll start all I want," Toby said.

The front door opened, and Pa appeared, looking tired and dirty with a shirt smeared full of fish guts. Without speaking a word, he headed straight to the backyard to wash. The family was used to Pa coming home with all sorts of foul scents wafting from his clothes, but still, Ma wouldn't tolerate it and made Pa go straight back outside to wash and change clothes. Sometimes Samuel or Toby worked in the warehouse, preparing the fish to be sold. Toby hated it and usually ran off in the middle of his shift. Samuel could tolerate it. He didn't like the smell, but the work didn't bother him.

The family set the food out on the table as they waited for Pa to return. Samuel picked up a basket, immediately recognizing its familiar contents.

"Toby was nice enough to bring some corn home," Ma said, giving her youngest son a smile. "It's the biggest corn I've ever seen." Samuel nodded.

"That's great, Ma." He narrowed his eyes at Toby, who gave him a mocking grin.

After placing the corn on the table, Samuel took his usual seat with Toby across from him and Ma on his right. Pa entered the room.

"It's been a long day," he said, groaning. He stopped, and his tired face turned into a glare. Toby looked back at Pa, his body calm, but his eyes terrified.

"Pa - " he started.

"Toby," Pa said, taking a deep breath. "I'm glad to see you're home." He said it flatly as though he were holding his anger back. Samuel felt that it was safe to assume that he probably _was_.

"I - " Toby said.

"We'll talk about it after dinner," said Pa, his tired face returning. "I need some food."

The family started their nightly dinner ritual, digging into the food with greedy hands. Samuel examined the corn he had picked. He had not been able to take a good look at it the night before and realized that it looked a bit strange. It was a lot larger than he was used to, but he did not think much of it. He looked at his brother, setting his pride aside. He could let Toby take the credit for thinking of the family and bringing the corn for dinner. He needed it, especially since he had not shown up to Sermon. Samuel bit into the corn. It was a bit tough, and Samuel found that he had to dig into it with his teeth. He chewed the little bit that he managed to get off of the cob, and the kernels were hard and gritty in his mouth.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with this corn?" Pa bellowed, his voice coloring the room. Toby had bit into it as well. He grimaced.

"Is it cooked?" Toby said.

"Of course," Ma said, looking to Samuel. Pa spit the corn into his cloth napkin. The boys took it as an invitation to do the same.

"Ugh," Toby said, wiping his tongue.

"Where did you get this?" Pa asked. Samuel almost answered.

"From the - uh - cornfield down the road," Toby said. "The one by that barn that burnt down." Realization crept into Pa's eyes, and his face turned red.

"Are you okay, John?" Ma said, leaning forward. Pa made a grating noise in his throat. Samuel looked at Toby, alarmed. The noise turned into a raspy chuckle, and soon Pa's mouth was open, rubbery corn bits flying in the air. His belly bounced violently as he laughed, his eyes closed and watering. He slowly composed himself after some time and shook his head.

"My son... " he chuckled. "Toby, do we look like chickens or pigs to you? Are we really that bad? Even your brother?"

"What?" Toby looked around, confused. Samuel started to laugh, realizing his mistake. "What _is_ it?" Toby whined. Ma looked around and giggled.

"This corn isn't for humans, Toby," said Samuel. "It's for animals. That's why it's so big." Toby's mouth opened, and his cheeks turned red.

"It's okay, son," said Pa. "You tried. I appreciate it. Next trip to Potterstead, you can get us some corn for people."

"Sure," said Toby. He glared at Samuel. Samuel shrugged, and Toby smiled as if to say:

_Of course I wouldn't get away with taking your credit, Samuel. The stars would never let me do that._

The brothers locked eyes, and Samuel realized that there was nowhere else that he would rather be than there at the dinner table with half-chewed corn sprayed all over. His mind seemed to paint a picture of the scene, as if to tell him: _Simplicity. Love. Family. These will not last forever._ A shadow spread over Samuel's contentment, because he knew it was true.

* * *

Toby was already falling asleep by the time Samuel made it up to the loft. Samuel stepped over his brother and sat in his own spot, pulling the blanket over himself. He held his palm up to his face, which had come back brown. Toby was to his left resting comfortably, wrapped in the quilts Samuel had put in his own space. Samuel looked at the dirty blanket over his legs and then back at the quilts. He took a deep breath and lay down, pulling the blanket up to his shoulder.

"Hey, Samuel," Toby said, sleepily.

"What is it?" Samuel mumbled. Toby sat up and shook Samuel's shoulder. "What?" Samuel said, louder this time.

"I wanna talk to you," Toby said.

"I'm right here," Samuel said, irritably. "I can hear you." Toby kicked his back, and Samuel bolted upright. "Okay," Samuel said, making sharp eye contact with his brother. "What did you wanna talk about?" He sat back against the angled wall. Toby played with something under his shirt, hanging by a string around his neck.

"Don't let the overseers see that," Samuel whispered. "There are some new ones visiting from Potterstead, and they're - Well, I met one, and he wasn't a very kind man. He scolded me for not turning people in for wearing bone charms for luck."

"Almost all of the men at the pier wear bone charms," Toby said. "Are they going to arrest them all?" Samuel shook his head.

"I don't know what they're going to do, but be careful, Toby. These men aren't joking." Toby looked down as though he were thinking and then nodded.

"Where's yours?" he said. "You threw it away, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Samuel lied. He looked down and smoothed his hair back.

"It was an experience, though, wasn't it?" Toby said. Samuel gave his brother a look that he hoped seemed stern.

"I'd rather not do it again," he said. "I'd rather _you_ didn't either."

"I haven't," said Toby. "Honest," he added when Samuel continued to glare. Downstairs, the lantern went out, and the front door opened quietly and then closed.

"Where do you think they go at night?" Toby asked. Samuel shook his head.

"I don't know," he said.

"You wanna follow them?" Toby gave his brother a mischievous smile.

" _No,_ " Samuel said forcefully. Toby frowned and looked toward the door.

"Maybe they're off gambling and drinking. Or maybe they're doing shady rituals in Mrs. Hart's basement," Toby said, wiggling his fingers and making his voice sound low and raspy. "Or maybe we'll have a new baby brother soon. Or a sister."

"Stop that," said Samuel. Ma and Pa already seemed like a strange match to Samuel, Ma with her frail, thin body, and Pa, a giant towering over the heads of most men.

"Oh, grow up, Samuel," Toby said, chuckling. Samuel laughed along.

"Ma's been acting strange, lately, hasn't she?" said Samuel. Toby's smile faded.

"Yeah..." he said. "Sometimes when she talks about you, she calls you Gene." Eugene was Ma's brother, older by two years. He died before Samuel was born, and Ma didn't talk about him much. Samuel didn't even know she had _had_ a brother, until Pa told him one day.

As far as Samuel knew, Ma's family had fallen apart when she was still young. She and her brother were raised mostly by their Pa, who, Ma told Samuel, "Was a warm and loving man." Ma mostly talked about her Pa when she mentioned her family. She never talked about her mother.

"My Ma just wandered out the door one night and never came back," Ma had told Samuel. She never mentioned her again, and Pa warned Samuel and Toby not to ask about her

Toby shifted slightly, looking his brother in the eye.

"Do you think they'll just leave one night and never come back?" he asked.

"No, Toby," Samuel reassured him. "They would never do that." Toby seemed to relax at his brother's reassurance. Although he mostly tried to act older than his age, sometimes he seemed younger.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Samuel asked, remembering why he wasn't already asleep in the first place.

"Oh," Toby said. "Nothing. It's not important."

"Toby - " said Samuel.

"It's not important," Toby said, raising his voice. Samuel turned around and lay on his side.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight, Samuel," said Toby, giving his brother a quick squeeze on the shoulder. Toby turned over and buried himself under the quilts.

Samuel lay in bed, wrapped in dirty blankets. After Toby's interruption, he found that he couldn't sleep. He looked up at the sloped ceiling, shrouded in darkness and held his hand out in front of him, barely able to make out his fingers against the blackness of the loft. His mind wandered to the bone charm, buried in the ground. It was outside in the dark, all alone. Samuel felt a peculiar sense of loneliness overtake him. He looked over to Toby, who was fast asleep, tempted to wake his brother, just to hear his voice.

Pushing the idea from his mind, Samuel thought back to the events of the day. Of Overseer Wright and his talk of Samuel's rite of passage. Was Samuel seriously considering traveling to Whitecliff? He figured that he didn't have to decide whether or not he wanted to be an overseer until he got there, and if he did not, he would see the city as most others did: As a symbol of the Abbey of the Everyman and as a place of pilgrimage.

Samuel felt apprehension build in his chest. He had never traveled alone before and had never gone so far for such a long time. He could take Toby with him, but the thought of keeping up with his younger brother was tiring. He wondered how many times he would have to get Toby out of trouble. And out there, they could get into _real_ danger. The highway was not a safe place. It swarmed with thieves and bandits, murderers and rapists. Samuel would not be able to get Toby out of everything. He was not strong enough to protect his brother from the entire world.

In the darkness, clear pictures formed in front of Samuel's eyes. He saw the cornfield and Susannah's house, Toby looking around the table as his family laughed, the sermon hall and two overseers, one with kind, compassionate eyes, and the other with a hard, cold stare, a long road leading to an unknown destination, Whitecliff with its ivory bricks and its marble halls, home with Ma and Pa sitting at the table. He saw another home, this one unfamiliar but similar to the house in Old Pier. He saw himself, relaxing in front of a fireplace with a nondescript woman in his arms and a child playing behind them. Now he was fishing with his son, teaching the boy as Pa had taught him.

But then the road appeared again. Samuel tried to walk down it to see where it went, but it was no use. It went on forever in an endless loop. He willed his mind to skip to the end of the road, but it did not comply. He tried to imagine Whitecliff at the end, but it was hazy. Samuel realized that once he went down this road, he could go anywhere. He could go to Whitecliff, to Dunwall, or visit the beaches of Cullero. The possibilities crowded Samuel's mind, and for the first time, he realized that he had no idea where he was going.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel and Toby spend some quality brother to brother time together on their trip to Potterstead. They get their first dose of the absurdity of city life when Toby goes off on a secret quest, and Samuel plays cards with gangsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I recommend curling up under a blanket with a huge mug of hot tea and your laptop, because it is both a beast and a wildcard. It does next to nothing to advance the plot, so I apologize, but I wanted to write an entire chapter of just Samuel and Toby, so you could get a good sense of their relationship. So, the brothers go on an adventure fraught with singing, drinking, absurdity, and a bit of teenage angst.

* * *

The sun rose, just as always, in Old Pier, and most of the townsfolk started their regular routines, getting ready to work and then working. However, for the Beechworth family, the day was full of possibilities as Samuel and Toby got ready to take their first trip to Potterstead - _alone_.

Toby had chattered all morning, excited as a mouse, and Samuel had prepared for the trip, making sure to bring enough money for the groceries. Pa slipped him a few extra coins, in case he and Toby wanted to get something for themselves, closing them into Samuel's hand with a wink.

Ma hugged her children tightly, kissing them both on the foreheads, and telling them to have a safe trip, and Pa waited by the door.

"Toby, I wanna talk to you for a minute," he said, waving Samuel out the door. "Samuel you can wait by the road. Toby'll help me with the cart."

The clear sky showed promising signs of an easy trip to the market in Potterstead. With summer ending, it was neither too hot nor too humid, making it pleasant outdoors. Samuel stood near the road, waiting for Pa to arrive with the cart. Usually Pa was the one who went to Potterstead, taking Samuel or Toby with him, but Pa decided that Samuel and Toby were old enough to go on their own. Samuel found that he was nervous, but he assured himself that he would be able to handle whatever Toby threw at him.

Pa arrived, dragging a wooden cart, and Toby trailed behind him, beaming. Samuel walked up to them as they approached, studying the cart.

"It's empty," said Samuel. Usually the cart was filled with fish, ready to be sold at the market. The families of Old Pier took turns transporting and selling the fish, bringing the money home. They kept most of the money and paid a small percentage in taxes.

"This isn't our selling day," said Pa, stopping to stand in front of Samuel. Toby walked up behind him.

"Does there really have to be any reason for us to go to the market, other than to buy food?" Toby said.

"Yeah, I think so, when the market is a two and a half hour walk away," said Samuel.

"Samuel," Pa said, putting his hand on his son's shoulder. "I think it's important for you and your brother to take this trip alone. You're both growing up." Samuel felt as though he heard that sentence at least once a day.

Samuel knew there was more to Pa's reasoning for the trip than just teaching his sons how to be responsible. Pa's and Ma's anniversary was today.

Samuel did not mind getting kicked out of the house for a while, but he knew that Toby would take offense and stay home, and he understood why Pa had chosen not to bring up his and Ma's anniversary. Toby seemed happy enough to be going to the market, so Samuel assumed that Pa's idea had worked.

"Samuel, Toby," Pa said. "I'm trusting you both to be responsible and safe. Get back here before the sun goes down. I don't want you on that road after dark. It can get dangerous." He held up his finger. "And, don't even think about going anywhere else besides the market. It's not safe in the city." Toby snorted. "I mean it, Toby. There can be some sick people out there, and I don't want either of you getting hurt." He looked at Samuel as if to say: _Make sure you keep Toby in line. I want him back safe. Do you hear me?_

Samuel heard him perfectly. The brothers headed off with the cart, heading north, along the Coast Road, to Potterstead.

* * *

"Did I tell you Susannah wants to travel to Pandyssia?" Samuel and Toby trotted down the dirt road, the cart rolling behind them. Since the moment they had left, Toby talked non-stop about his new girlfriend.

"Yes, you told me already, Toby," Samuel said, rubbing his eyebrows. "You've only known her for a month. How much else can you know about her?"

"Plenty," Toby said. "We have all day to talk."

"So, that's where you've been. Just talking at Susannah's house?" Samuel said.

"Not quite..." Toby said. "I've been helping her sell her, um, trinkets by the road." Samuel glanced briefly at his brother.

"You? Working? Maybe Susannah should start fishing," he said. Toby punched him in the arm.

"She doesn't get that much business," said Toby, grinning as Samuel rubbed his arm. "I just like keeping her company. It can get boring waiting for people to stop and buy something. Did I tell you Susannah wants to go to Serkonos? There's supposed to be a huge market in Cullero. I heard that the entire city is a market." Samuel rubbed his eyebrows again.

"Yeah, you told me that, too," he said.

"I just like her so much, Samuel," Toby said.

"I can tell," said Samuel.

"I think - " Toby hesitated. "Well, you're the only other person who knows about her, so you're the only person I can talk about her with."

"I know, Toby." Samuel kept his face blank.

"I think I might love her," said Toby, waiting for his brother's reaction.

"Maybe," said Samuel. Toby looked at him, surprised.

"That's all you're gonna say? You're supposed to tell me that I'm just being silly. That I've only known her for a month, and I don't love her." Samuel looked at Toby and shrugged. They were silent for a moment, and Toby looked at his brother slyly.

"Did I tell you that Susannah wants to travel to Morley to harvest a - "

"Yes! You told me that too," said Samuel, raising his voice a bit. He shook his head.

"Good," said Toby. "You're back to your usual self. You were scaring me for a little bit."

"Well..." Samuel said, trailing off. Though he maintained his grouchy act, he couldn't help but let a brief smile slip through while Toby wasn't looking.

* * *

"Samuel, how long have we been walking?" Toby said. Samuel looked up.

"The sun's still in the east, in the same place it was when you asked last time - so, not that long." Toby looked around.

"I know where we are," he said.

"I told you, Toby," said Samuel. "We've been walking for maybe twenty or thirty minutes since we left home." Samuel hadn't even finished his sentence before Toby took off, dashing toward an object in the distance. "Where are you going?" Samuel yelled. Toby ignored him and kept running.

Samuel caught up with Toby, who stood in front of a small stand by the side of the road, talking to the vendor, whose long, black hair and small frame were very familiar.

Susannah waved as Samuel arrived.

"Samuel!" she said, running up to him and giving him a hug. "It's been such a long time." She took his hands and kissed his cheeks. Toby giggled at Samuel's discomfort. "Tobias tells me you two are going on a road trip. I think that's so sweet - you two brothers getting some time together. Family is so important, you know," she said, holding her finger up.

"Good to see you too, Susannah," said Samuel, smoothing back his hair.

"Oh!" she said, turning toward the stand. She picked something up, holding in her palm and bringing it to Samuel. "Please, have one. You're as good as family, after all." Samuel looked down at a small doll made of string attached to a pin. Susannah stuck it on his shirt. "Isn't it adorable?" said Susannah. "These dolls were supposedly used as luck charms in Tyvia," she said. "But don't tell anyone," she whispered. "I just sell them as decorative pins." Samuel nodded.

"Where's Toby's?" he said, jokingly, but Toby held his jacket open, and Samuel could see a small doll attached to the lining.

Samuel approached the stand, which had an assortment of pins, bells, whistles, pencils, lighters, and other small trinkets. He found himself wondering who would buy any of them while on the road, as he could not see any particular use for the items when traveling.

"None of these sell that well," Susannah said. "But that's not really what people come here for." She giggled.

"What do they come here for?" Samuel asked after Susannah gave no further detail.

"The bone charms, of course," Susannah said. Her green cat eyes turned to slits as she smiled.

"What?" Samuel said, gaping. He looked at Toby, who looked away. "Isn't that dangerous? What if the overseers catch you?"

"I told you, Samuel," Susannah put her hand on his shoulder. "Overseers are rarely in the country. I've seen a few pass by, but they just see this junk, and they usually leave once I try to sell them something."

"And Toby's been doing this with you?" Samuel said. Susannah nodded, still smiling.

"Samuel," Toby started.

"We have to go," Samuel said, taking Toby's arm. He held the cart handle with his other hand.

"Bye, Susannah," Toby said. "I think I'm in trouble." Susannah giggled.

"Goodbye, Tobias," she said, giving him a peck on the lips before Samuel could drag him away.

The boys walked in silence for a few minutes, Samuel on the left and Toby on the right.

"Samuel," said Toby, taking a deep breath. "I am almost an adult, and I believe that I can make my own decisions, but if I'm to do that, you _can't_ tell Pa about Susannah or the bone charms," he said, pleadingly.

"Toby, I'd rather tell them than have you get dragged off by the overseers - "

"There aren't any overseers in the country. It's safe, Samuel!" Toby whined.

"We'll talk about it later," said Samuel, sternly.

"Sometimes it seems like you're my third parent, instead of my big brother," Toby said, but Samuel was not listening. He stopped, looking at the sky ahead.

Samuel could see a shroud of darkness on the horizon, moving slowly closer to his and Toby's location.

"That doesn't look good," Samuel said. "Maybe we should turn back? It's probably not a good idea for us to walk through a storm."

"Maybe it's just rain," said Toby. "It won't be that bad. We'll just get wet." Samuel turned to his brother. Usually Toby was the first person to ditch his responsibilities if he had the chance.

"Really?" said Samuel. "You want to go that bad?"

"Yeah... " said Toby, shrugging.

"Why?" Samuel asked, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

"What do you mean, Samuel?" Toby said. "I just want to see the market, plus we'll ruin Ma and Pa's anniversary if we come back so soon."

Samuel looked apprehensively at the road ahead. He sighed. Toby seemed to really want to go to Potterstead, and Samuel knew he was hiding _something_. The possibilities ran through his mind, but he couldn't come up with a likely one. Susannah was behind them, now, so she could not be at the market.

_Unless she has special powers, and she can travel anywhere instantly,_ Samuel thought to himself sarcastically. He stopped a moment to consider it but then shook his head. Susannah did not have any powers. She did pointless rituals in a dark, dusty cellar, speaking "ancient" gibberish, relying on the eagerness of her imagination. Samuel was thankful that she did not do any of the gory rituals described by the overseers, but gory or not, the rituals did nothing.

He started walking again, pulling his end of the cart, and Toby adjusted his stride to Samuel's, holding his own side of the wooden wagon.

The black clouds ahead neared faster than Samuel had predicted, rolling over the sparkling, blue sky and threatening to block out the sun. The momentary chiaroscuro of the landscape gave Samuel a feeling of both dread and wonder, but soon the clouds covered the sky completely, and the wonder was gone, all light above extinguished as though it were nighttime. Samuel found himself wishing that they had turned back. Lightning flashed in the distance, and more sparked just ahead, projecting an ear-splitting boom that rattled the ground. Toby jumped and looked around, but he continued on, never slowing his pace.

"Why do I always listen to you?" Samuel grumbled. Samuel pondered the fact that he took the advice of his reckless brother more than he did his own and found that his actions baffled him.

"It's just rain, Samuel," said Toby. The wind picked up. It had not even started raining, yet.

"Look at that," said Samuel, pointing to a curtain of mist headed their way. "We'll get soaked."

"Good, you needed a bath, anyway," Toby said, pinching his nose and waving his other hand in front of his face. He laughed. Samuel looked down, trudging grumpily. "You're no fun, Samuel," Toby said. "How about we sing something? Like when we were little?"

When Pa took Samuel and Toby to the market when they were young, they would pass the time by singing silly songs, Pa's voice booming, probably traveling for miles, and the boys' voices, chirping away.

"Don't you remember any of them?" said Toby.

"No," said Samuel, keeping his eyes on his feet.

"Come on, Samuel! You have to," Toby said, pushing his brother lightly on the arm.

"No," Samuel said, more forcefully this time.

"Well, I remember one," said Toby, ignoring Samuel's grouchiness. He took a deep, dramatic breath. "There - " Instant rain poured from the clouds in buckets. It filled Toby's mouth, and he bent down, hacking and spitting. Samuel stopped to let his brother recover. The ground had already turned to brown sludge, and Samuel felt his boots sinking into the mess. He took a step toward Toby to pat him on the back and almost slipped.

"Careful," Toby croaked, standing to look at his elder brother. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and picked up the wagon handle. The brothers started off again, holding each other for support as they slid through the mud. Lightning flashed from all over, momentarily bathing the landscape in bright, white light before the blackness returned. Just as Samuel's eyes grew accustomed to the dark, another flash blinded him again, resulting in a never-ending cycle that rendered them useless.

"We should have brought a lantern," said Toby. He made his voice low and raspy. "This reminds me of a story Pa told me about a monster who only attacks during thunderstorms. He eats men whole, grabbing their feet as they walk through a puddle - "

" _I_ told you that story," said Samuel, looking over at his brother. He felt a smile creep onto his face. "And I made the whole thing up." He chuckled.

"Well, what about the highway murderer who hides in the backs of wagons and carts waiting to slit - "

" _My_ story," Samuel said. "Also made up."

"Damn it, Samuel," said Toby. "How much time did you spend trying to scare me when we were little?" Samuel thought about it, trying to remember back to when he and Toby were children.

"Probably a lot," said Samuel. "But then I got to hug you and tell you that everything was okay, and then I'd scare the monsters and murderers away - "

"So you could be the hero? You act so innocent," Toby said. "Remember when you told me that I would get eaten by witches if I went outside at night?"

"It kept you from trying to sneak out while we were asleep," Samuel said. "And the witches were Pa's idea."

"Does _nobody_ in this family like me?" said Toby, putting on a fake frown. Thunder crashed overhead and the wind blew harder, making the rain shoot directly into the boys' faces. Samuel squinted, trying to keep the water out of his eyes.

Samuel and Toby trudged through the thick goop, their feet sinking into the ground, then - with some effort - emerging from the mouth of sucking mud with a _smack_. The road had turned into a sludgy stream, making the ground flow backward, and the brothers had to double their pace to make progress. Nature seemed to have turned against them, doing everything in its power to keep them from their destination.

"How long do you think we've been walking?" yelled Toby.

"I don't know," Samuel said. He could not even make a prediction. He felt as though they had been walking all day. The few trees in the country landscape bent into unnatural shapes as the wind worked to push them away. Samuel found that he could hardly see through the rain; anything that was not directly in front of him was a gray blur. The speeding water slammed into his face, biting his skin like millions of needles.

"There... " Toby started.

 

_"...Was a plump woman who sat on her tush,_

_the kids came along and gave her a push,_

_she tumbled and tumbled and tumbled away,_

_and the kids chased her 'round as she tumbled all day!"_

Toby had to yell the song to be heard over the cracking, crashing, rumbling, whooshing and rushing. "Your turn, Samuel!" he said.

"I told you I don't remember any," he said, wiping away a lock of scraggly hair stuck to his face.

"Of course you do," said Toby. "What about the one about the whale and the sailboat?"

"I forgot the words," said Samuel. He huffed as he uprooted his right leg from the mud, feeling as though he would lose a foot if he pulled any harder.

"That was one of your favorites," said Toby.

 

_"A sailboat floated in the sea,_

_the crew was in a fuss,_

_because the wind was nowhere to be..._

_...found, and they were stuck,_

"Come on, Samuel." Toby stopped singing. "I know you know this song. Sing the next verse, please?" Toby looked over at his brother with pleading eyes.

"Are you five years old?" Samuel said. His arm pumped as he squished forward. "Why do you act this way?" Toby flashed Samuel an expression that resembled pity - the kind given to a child who can't seem to understand an easy concept.

"I just want you to have some fun, Samuel. You can get so grumpy. Doesn't it get tiring?" Toby said.

"I imagine it's more tiring to be like you," said Samuel, raising a soggy eyebrow. "With all that you do."

"Sometimes I think you _try_ to be grumpy. It doesn't make you seem older, you know." A sudden gust of wind pushed him backward. "You're the same as usual, just angrier - like Pa," said Toby as he recovered. Samuel gave his brother a side glance, trying not to be swept away by the rushing rainwater or sucked into the mud.

"Maybe I'm just naturally that way," he said distractedly, knowing it was not true.

"Then, it's my job to cheer you up," Toby said, sloshing with ease through the brown slush. "Just sing _one_ song with me. I'll leave you alone after that if you don't wanna sing anymore." Samuel exhaled. He could see his breath.

"Okay," he said, surrendering in the face of his younger brother's persistence.

"Good," Toby said, beaming. "You start and I'll join in."

"A sailboat floated - "

"I can't hear you!" shouted Toby. "Sing louder!" Samuel started again.

"A sail - "

"Louder!" said Toby. Samuel growled.

"Wha - "

"A SAILBOAT FLOATED IN THE SEA!" Toby screamed. He gestured for Samuel to start.

"The crew - "

"THE CREW - "

"THE CREW WAS IN A FUSS!" Samuel shouted a-melodically, more out of frustration than fun. Toby cackled.

"That's it, Samuel!" he said. Samuel looked away from his brother, trying to conceal the grin that had formed on his face, but Toby saw it. "Go, Samuel!" he said.

"BECAUSE THE WIND WAS NOWHERE TO BE..."

"...FOUND, AND THEY WERE STUCK!" Toby finished. Samuel laughed at how horrible they sounded, but with the storm tearing the world apart around them, they were the only ones who could hear it. Toby started singing again, and Samuel joined in.

 

_bobbing in the ocean blue,_

_the crew was sick, the captain too,_

_but then out of the water deep,_

_some movement caught their eye._

_'Captain,' said one of the men,_

_'I think something is afoot',_

_the captain looked over the side_

_and fell overboard, ka-put!_

_The men didn't know what to do,_

_'the captain's gone,' they cried, 'boo-hoo!'_

_but then there came a miracle,_

_as the captain appeared._

_As he floated out of the ocean,_

_he cried, 'Listen men!,_

_a most peculiar thing has happened._

_I've found us a friend!_

_'As I sank down into the blue,_

_I thought I was a-dead,_

_but suddenly I found myself,_

_standing on a whale's head!'_

_'Hooray!' the crew shouted in glee,_

_'The captain is a-back!'_

_The captain said, 'the whale and I_

_have made a little pact._

_'In exchange for friendship undying,_

_he'll give us a push._

_We'll sail from Caltan to Cullero,_

_with no wind, a-whoosh!'_

_From that moment on never again_

_did the boat need a sail._

_If the wind failed, the men still sailed,_

_because they had a whale!_

Samuel and Toby laughed freely, any feelings of foolishness forgotten. Somehow, while singing, walking through the mud and rain did not seem so bad to Samuel. His legs stopped aching, he felt warmer, and the cart seemed lighter now. He looked at Toby and smiled.

"I told you," Toby said. "Let's sing another one." This time Samuel started, screaming gibberish when he could not remember the words, and the brothers sang on through the storm.

* * *

Samuel and Toby arrived in Potterstead about an hour and a half later than they intended. The cart had gotten stuck in the mud a few times, and the brothers took a while getting its wheels out, as it seemed to sink in deeper every time they tried to pull it.

Toby had tried to convince Samuel that they should leave the cart and save themselves, but Samuel only stared at his younger brother and told him to pull harder.

"We won't accomplish anything if all of us are stuck in the mud," Toby said, grasping his end of the cart tightly. "I think I'm sinking." Toby's feet and ankles had disappeared into the ground.

"I'll tell Ma and Pa that you were brave, staying behind to save the cart. You'll be a hero," said Samuel.

"Sure, a _dumb_ hero," Toby said. "My story will be some cautionary tale that parents tell to their children, warning them to not do stupid things that get them killed, like drowning in mud for a cart."

Miraculously, the brothers managed to save both the cart and themselves, and shortly afterward, they found themselves within sight of the city.

They sauntered into Potterstead, muddy and tired, but feeling like victorious warriors, just having survived a battle. The rain had stopped a few minutes before, and already, the sky had turned back to its former shade of light blue. A group of children who had been running around and hitting each other with sticks stopped to snicker at the two boys, whose clothes were soggy and encrusted with dried mud. Toby shook his hand at them, sending the brown slush flying into their faces, and laughed back at them as they screamed. Samuel shook his head and pulled Toby along by the arm.

The market was not too far from the entrance of the city. From where the boys were, the city looked nice enough. It was made mostly of stone; cobblestone lined the streets underneath their feet, and buildings made of stacked stones towered above them. The rain had mostly dried up, and the market operated as though there had been no storm at all. Ordered chaos surrounded them and bent around them as they disrupted its flow. Women shouted out of windows at their husbands who worked in the market, sometimes throwing down supplies. Children ran through the streets, even the girls in pants, playing Kick the Can and Roll the Hoop. One of the hoops ran into Samuel's leg, falling to the ground, and three children ran to it, groaning and giving Samuel dirty looks for ruining the game.

"That one didn't count!" said the tallest boy. He wore a dirty white shirt tucked into brown pants with suspenders. On his head was a charcoal-colored cap.

"Yes, it did," said a girl. She wore a similar outfit to the boy, the knees of her pants stained with dirt, and had her hair pinned up so that Samuel had almost mistaken her for another boy. "You lost, Len," she said.

"No, _he_ ruined it!" Len pointed up at Samuel. Samuel tried to keep walking, but the children blocked him from turning the cart. Toby grinned at him, enjoying the unfolding scene.

"You threw it wrong," said a smaller boy.

"I did _not,_ " said Len, stomping his foot on the worn cobblestone. He picked up the hoop. "I'm not playing anymore!" he said, chucking the hoop away. It ricocheted off one of the buildings, nearly hitting a woman in the head, and hurtled over a small barrier, dropping a distance and then disappearing.

"That was _mine_!" said the small boy. Tears formed in his eyes and he sniffled uncontrollably.

"It's gone now," Len said flatly. The girl seemed to lose interest and wandered away, joining another small group of children who were jumping in a puddle. Len left the little boy to blubber by himself, marching behind Samuel and kicking the cart before leaving. The little boy stopped crying and looked up at Samuel, eyeing him resentfully. He left after a bit, stomping and grumbling his way out of the market.

"You're so good at making friends, Samuel," joked Toby. He laughed. "You ruin the fun, even if you're not trying to." Samuel ignored him and stepped forward, pulling the cart along.

"You know," said Toby walking with him. "I'm feeling kind of dirty. Maybe there's somewhere we can take a bath?" He scratched under his arm.

"Not anywhere we'd _want_ to," said Samuel. "These people are used to dirty travelers. Let's just get what we need so we can go home and wash."

"But we're here now," Toby whined. "After all of that, you just want us to leave?" Samuel's shoulders slumped forward, and he took an overly-dramatic breath. Toby snickered at his elder brother's act.

"What else would we do? Pa said that we shouldn't leave the market - "

"Look," Toby said, pointing down a nearby street. "There's a pub _right_ there." Samuel gazed in the direction of Toby's outstretched finger and caught a glimpse of what could be a pub off in the distance.

"That's too far, Toby," said Samuel, running a hand through his damp hair then pulling the cart forward. The cart's wheels lurched to life. "I don't know what kinds of folks live here, and I don't want to have to look after you." He grunted as he veered the cart to the left to avoid a man pulling a wagon of fruit.

"You don't have to," said Toby, strutting around to Samuel's other side. "I can look after myself. You can look after yourself. We'll be fine." Samuel stopped and turned around, squinting at the potential pub. He _could_ use a drink after surviving the journey through that storm.

"Fine," he said. "We'll get a drink - "

"Or three," said Toby.

"...and then we'll _leave_ \- "

"Jolly as jellyfish," Toby finished. Samuel gave his brother a long, hard stare and then looked around.

"First, we'll go there," he said, pointing toward the vegetable section. Toby dashed ahead, giving Samuel the privilege of pulling the cart.

By the time Samuel had caught up with Toby, his younger brother had gathered an armful of vegetables that had grown into a mountain. He wobbled in front of a stand, tended by a rather unfriendly-looking middle-aged man, trying not to drop them.

"Well, pay him already, Samuel," said Toby, shifting his arms. "I don't wanna drop any of these."

"You could've waited for me," said Samuel, stretching an arm out to take some of the vegetables.

"I'm not a baby," Toby said, twisting away from Samuel's reach. "I can pick out good vegetables, see? A lot better than you, even. Look at the corn." He raised his arms about an inch, stood on his toes, and took a stunted step toward his elder brother.

"That wasn't my point," grumbled Samuel. The stand owner cleared his throat, and Samuel blindly grabbed at his belt, until he found his pouch. He removed a coin and handed it to the man.

"Thanks," said Samuel. The man grunted and looked away.

After Toby loaded the cart, even making sure not to damage the vegetables by dropping them in, the boys headed on to the fruit section.

Toby took the cart this time, negating his earlier care with the groceries by bounding down the road. The cart, partially dragging behind him, strived to keep up, vegetables of all colors and shapes careening about the basket.

Samuel, already tired of chasing after his brother, strolled casually down the aisle, allowing Toby to run as fast as he wanted. Toby had always been energetic. Even at fifteen, he appeared alive as a seven-year-old, displaying the maturity of one as well.

"I might have to drop my future son off at an orphanage if he's this bad," Samuel called after him. "Or give him away to his uncle. Let's see you as an adult trying to keep up with a younger version of yourself!" Toby did not answer, as he had run too far ahead and could not hear Samuel above the cacophony of voices cascading through the market. Samuel looked around, taking some time to survey the contents of the nearby stands.

He had walked through this market many times before, but every sight seemed new and exciting, as though he were seeing it for the first time. Usually, he and Pa went to the market, but this time, _Samuel_ was the adult. Even though Pa had said that he and Toby _both_ were old enough to go to the market alone, Samuel knew that Pa would never send Toby without him. Maybe in a couple of years, Toby would grow up. Samuel had trouble picturing a responsible and obedient Toby, and the possibility that Pa would _never_ let Toby go to the market by himself, no matter how old he was, seemed more likely.

The fruit section was quite crowded, but still Toby had managed to disappear with the cart. Samuel pushed past men and women, some stopped in front of the stands sampling berries and cherries, or smelling and squeezing the larger fruits, and others waddled slowly with the crowd. Some people walked faster, claiming the slightest gap between shoulders and prying their way through. Samuel found himself stuck behind a large family. He looked around at the fruit, tempted to stop at a stand every now and then, but not wanting to block the slow-moving flow of people behind him. Vendors yelled from behind their stands, holding up fruit and yelling prices. Some picked people out of the crowd, trying to sell to them, and a few vendors hollered suggestive phrases at the attractive women who passed by. Samuel watched as a man screamed at one of the vendors who had just catcalled his daughter. The girl, probably around Toby's age, stood behind her father, red-faced and embarrassed. The man threw a few fruits at the vendor before taking off, shoving his way through the crowd with his hand clamped around his daughter's arm. She followed him, stumbling over her own feet.

"Hey, you," the vendor waved at Samuel, and Samuel stared back. "I have the best bananas and mangos in the market," he said. Samuel doubted that, even though he had never tried either of the fruits, which grew in the southern regions of Serkonos. He usually bought whatever was seasonal in Gristol. Some still had berries, but Samuel looked for apples and pears and maybe a few small pumpkins, if there were any yet.

Samuel made his way to the vendor, who held out his arms as if Samuel were his best friend.

"You are lucky today," he said, beckoning Samuel closer to the stand. "I'm having a sale. If you buy two mangoes, I'll throw in three bananas for half-price." He gave Samuel a wide grin.

"Oh, I don't usually eat either," said Samuel, backing away.

"Well, I'll tell you what," said the man. "You look like you've had a hard day." He gestured at Samuel's muddy clothes. Samuel nodded. "So, just for you, I'll give you two bananas for _free_ if you buy five mangoes for half-price. Plus, I'll throw in these papayas and this kiwi." He held up the fruit that had just been thrown at him, shoving it toward Samuel's face, as if it would make it appear more appetizing. "Plenty for the whole family, eh? Are you married? Your wife and kids will love these. They're so sweet, like candy. A good treat. Smell them! You won't be able to resist."

"No, no thanks," said Samuel. Someone in the crowd shoved past him, bumping his arm.

"It's a great deal," the man said. "You won't find this anywhere else, and I'm making this special offer just for _you_."

"No," said Samuel. "It's not for me." Without saying another word, Samuel jumped into the crowd. He could hear the man calling after him, but quickly, he lost interest, yelling to a woman traveling with three children.

As Samuel walked, he looked for Toby, straining his neck as he peered over the heads of the crowd. He was not worried, yet, but he knew he would feel better knowing where his younger brother had gone.

He finally found Toby in the bakery section arguing with one of the bakers.

"Why?" Samuel heard him say.

"I'm sorry," said the baker. "We were losing money. Nobody here is rich enough to spend that much coin on one slice of cake."

"Can't you just bake one for me?" Toby leaned forward. "Please!"

"Kid, I can't just bake one slice of cake, and we do all of our baking early in the morning. I'm sorry. You might try the bakery by Overlook Hill, okay?" The baker shooed him away.

"Toby," Samuel called. Toby stood in front of the stand, his eyes fixed on the ground. Samuel approached, and his younger brother looked up with a tight smile.

"Just wanted some sweets," he said, blinking.

"All of these are too expensive," Samuel said, looking around at the colorful tarts and fluffy, cream-colored cakes lined up on decorated stands.

"Yeah," said Toby. Samuel followed him to the cart, which was at the end of the bakery section. The vegetables in the basket mixed with the other groceries to form a diverse stew of fruits, bags of flour, cornmeal and sugar, packets of yeast, eggs, cheese, and assorted meats. Samuel could not help but be impressed.

"Toby," he said, grinning. "You got everything on the list, but how -" Samuel quickly opened his pouch to find that it was almost empty. He scowled.

"I did what I was supposed to do with the money, didn't I? Some man even sold me some strange fruit for cheap," said Toby, posing proudly. "Why don't we get this kind of fruit?" He held up a banana.

"Because it's imported from Serkonos, and it's expensive," said Samuel. Toby shrugged.

"How did I get it for so cheap, then?" he said. Samuel groaned.

"Why haven't you changed since you were about five?" he said. "I think the man expects us to come back to get more if we like it." He looked around. "I think he's the only one who sells those." Toby reached into the cart, pulling out a banana. It was long and green. Toby studied it for a moment and then peeled it.

"You're eating our groceries, already?" Samuel said.

"We can just eat these now," Toby said. "Pa and Ma don't know that we bought them." He bit into the strange, fleshy fruit and grimaced. Chewed chunks of soft, white fruit coated in saliva landed in front of Samuel's feet.

"Toby!" said Samuel, jumping back.

"How can anyone eat this?" Toby said, wiping his mouth. "It's soft and gritty. Here, try it." He shoved the banana toward Samuel.

"No, Toby, I - " Samuel started. He was interrupted as the banana rammed itself into his face, right above his mouth. "Toby!" Samuel said, swiping the fruit away. It flew to the ground, landing near one of the baker's stands. The baker looked at the fruit unappreciatively and then glared at the boys. Toby burst into laugher as Samuel wiped the fruit from his nose.

"You wanna get that drink, _now_ , Samuel?" Toby said, his shoulders still shaking in laughter.

"Yeah, I guess we'll get a drink now," Samuel said, ruffling his younger brother's hair. Toby pushed his hand away, and Samuel chuckled, knowing that Toby hated it when Samuel ruffled his hair.

"I'm almost as tall as you," Toby said, as he and Samuel made their way through the market, pulling the cart behind them. "I'll grow taller than you - as tall as Pa, and I'll ruffle your hair every day, and then you'll see why I hate it so much." Samuel shook his head.

"No matter how tall you get, you'll always be my little brother," he said. "Even if I have to stand on a ladder to reach the top of your head, I will never stop ruffling your hair - "

"Because you know I hate it?" Toby finished.

"Yes, exactly," Samuel said, shaking his brother's shoulder. Now, Toby laughed.

"Then, no matter what, you'll always be my big brother, which means I'll always find some way to drive you crazy."

"Sounds like a deal," said Samuel, ruffling Toby's hair again.

* * *

Samuel and Toby reached the other side of the market, and Toby ran ahead to the alley.

"Come on!" Toby said, waving his arm. Samuel approached the alley to join his brother but found that the cart was too wide to fit into the space between the stone buildings.

"Damn it," he said. "Toby, I can't bring the cart with us." He scanned the area.

"I have an idea," Toby said. Samuel looked at his brother apprehensively.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Let's just hide it," Toby said.

"Where, Toby? We're in a crowded marketplace in the city." Samuel sighed.

"I'll think of something," Toby said, looking around thoughtfully. Samuel rolled his eyes, waiting for his brother to fail to figure something out so they could leave. Toby stepped forward. "I know," he said, looking toward the sea. Toby took one side of the cart, and the brothers headed toward the beach.

"There's nobody at the beach," said Toby. "We can just hide it under some branches or something. Or bury it in sand! Then we can find it and dig it out, like treasure!" Toby laughed like a pirate.

"I don't think Ma and Pa'll be too happy about there being sand in all the food," Samuel said, grinning.

"Why should I care?" Toby said. Samuel's smile faded.

The brothers arrived at the beach to find it completely devoid of both people and sand.

"I told you," Toby said, raising both eyebrows at his brother. Samuel nodded. The two dragged the cart through the sharp rocks, Toby stopping every now and then to throw a stone into the ocean. He found a hoop, once, and hurled it into the water with a smirk. The waves crashed lightly against the shore, bringing the hoop right back to the beach.

"This isn't as bad as rolling the cart through the mud," Toby said, holding the cart's handle tightly.

"Yeah," said Samuel. "But it's almost as bad." The small rocks kept getting lodged in the cart's wheels, and the uneven ground made it difficult for Samuel and Toby to keep the cart upright. Luckily, they soon found what they needed.

"A cave!" Toby pointed to a rocky cliff that dropped from the edge of the market. The boys rolled the cart toward the cave. It was small, so Samuel reasoned that they would not have to worry about animals. He and Toby pushed the cart all the way into the back of the cave, where it could hide in the shadows.

"We did it," Toby said. Samuel glanced back at the cart.

"Do you think it'll be okay?" he said. "I'd hate for someone to find it and steal it."

"It'll be fine," said Toby, making his way back onto the sunlit beach.

Seagulls flew overhead, eyeing the market, but none were bold enough to get too close. Their screams echoed off the rock in discordance with the rolling waves.

* * *

Samuel and Toby arrived at the pub only to find that it was closed.

"Well, I was right about it being a pub," Toby said, leaning toward the window in an attempt to get a glimpse inside of the building.

"I guess we'll just go, then. We can get a drink at the bar at home," said Samuel. Toby looked longingly into the pub's window and put his hand up to the glass. "Stop being so overdramatic, Toby," said Samuel. "Let's go."

"Hey." Samuel and Toby turned toward the voice and spotted a homeless man only a few feet away from them. "Ya look just about as dirty as me," he wheezed. "But I can see you boys ain't bums. Yer eyes is too bright. Got too much hope in 'em." A gargling sound came from his throat that Samuel interpreted as a laugh. "This pub here was fer the visitors from the market. Ya know, a nice lil' pub away from the actual city where the tourists can drink with other tourists. Wouldn't wanna run intuh any of the dirty locals," he said. "But none of them folks went there, and the pub started losin' money. Plus the drink prices were real high, and ya don't see a lot of rich people wanderin' 'round here." He held out a tin mug. "I might know where ya can find another bar 'round here, if yer still wantin' that drink." He coughed and smiled through his chapped lips. Samuel shook his head.

"No - "

"Yeah!" said Toby, stepping forward. He grabbed at Samuel's belt and took a coin from the money pouch, and Samuel stared as Toby dropped the coin into the mug. It clattered as it hit the tin bottom, and the man smiled again.

"Thank ya," he said, gargling again. "Now, I know how tuh keep up my end of a bargain. The bar's up this road, here. Make a right down the alley next tuh all the dogs and once ya get tuh the end of that, make a left. There's a black door. That's where it is. Maybe I'll meet ya there later," he said, winking.

"Thanks," said Toby. He nodded.

"No problem, young fella," he said, turning and hobbling away. Samuel looked at Toby.

"I know what you're gonna say, Samuel," Toby said. "So, I'm just gonna head there, and you can catch up once you decide to follow me." Samuel said nothing as Toby sauntered down the road, and soon, he walked alongside his younger brother.

The local bar was not too far from the pub, so they headed down the alleyway "next tuh all the dogs", Toby in the front and Samuel grudgingly following. The alley was cramped, and doors lined the walls.

"I didn't know people could live this close," Toby said, dragging his hand along the stone. He slowed down, touching his fingers to the door of a small apartment. It had been painted red, but the color had faded and the paint was chipped from years of neglect. Samuel could hear the screams and giggles of small children coming from inside the buildings. Clothes hanging from clotheslines dried overhead, and alley cats roamed through the garbage. The mouth-watering scent of fried and roasted meats and rich stews wafted from open windows. Samuel's stomach grumbled, and Toby looked back at him knowingly.

"You think it'll be okay if we invite ourselves to dinner?" he said, only half-jokingly. He looked up at one of the apartments with wanting eyes.

"Come on," said Samuel, putting a hand on Toby's back and pushing him forward. "We'll fill up on ale."

"I like how you think, Samuel," Toby said with a grin.

The brothers made it to the end of the alley and turned left down the stairs. They found themselves in another alleyway, almost identical to the last.

"Here," said Toby, pointing to an unmarked black door. "I think it's this one." He opened the door, revealing a flight of wooden stairs.

"Are you sure?" said Samuel. He looked around, spotting some trash cans. "I think this might be the back door." The brothers peered down the stairs into the darkness.

Toby took the first step, his foot pressing down gingerly on the old wood. It creaked. He took another step. Once he made it to the middle of the stairwell, he stopped and waved Samuel down.

"I hear something," he said. Samuel made his way down the stairs as Toby completed his descent. They found themselves at a wooden door. Dim light streamed through the cracks, and a chorus of muffled voices sounded through the porous wood.

Toby pushed the door open, peering inside, and then opened it wider, stepping into the room. The scene was that of a group of men, sitting around a table, drinking and playing cards. Most looked as though they worked outdoors, and Samuel was used to that, but these men looked - tough. Most had scars and some sported tattoos that ran down their arms. Almost all of them looked strong enough to face Pa in a fight, as they were burly... and armed. A few of them looked nicer than the others and wore cheap suits and hats, but still, a dangerous aura surrounded them. The men laughed and clapped as one dealt cards to the rest around the table. As Toby and Samuel stepped into the room, the door creaked loudly, and all at once, the men fell silent. They turned around to look at the new arrivals, studying them up and down for a few seconds before turning to the table and resuming their activities. Toby raised an eyebrow at Samuel, and Samuel could only shrug back.

"Com'n in, boah!" Samuel heard a voice call from the left. The bartender leaned over the bar, waving them over. He stopped once he saw them and stepped back as Samuel and Toby approached the bar. The old man eyed them suspiciously.

"Who'ere you?" he said, his mouth full of gaps where his teeth had fallen out. On top of that, he had a severe underbite.

"We're from Old Pier. We were in the market and decided we wanted a drink. Someone told us about this place," said Samuel.

"Zah righ'?" said the old man. "Wha'ere name?"

"Samuel. This is my brother, Toby," he said. Toby gave the man a half-grin. The bartender did not smile back.

"Si'dah," he said, turning around toward the cabinet. Samuel sat on one of the stools, folding his arms on the bar. He stifled a sneeze as a cloud of dust rose from its surface. Toby sat next to Samuel and rubbed his nose and eyes.

"Aagh," he said, wiggling his nose.

"Jus' a lil' dus'," the bartender said, setting two glasses in front of them. Samuel studied his. A fine layer of brown dust covered the outside, and the rim was spotted with greasy lip prints. "Ya ga' fancy ba' whe'you come fum?" Toby looked at the man with wide eyes and then turned to Samuel.

"No, no, it's not fancy," said Samuel. "Our bar isn't as dusty as this, is all. It's owned by a nice family with two children." Samuel paused. "This bar's nice too," he added. The bartender chuckled, producing a breathy whistling sound from his throat and ending it with a phlegmy cough. He spat into a crumpled, cloth napkin, wiping his lips and throwing the cloth back behind the bar.

"Ya don' say. Zem chu'dun meh naih workuh'," said the old man, his mouth hovering open after the last word. He squinted. "Ya nuh Mihey Smih?" he said. "Ya relaeh? Ya bruh luh lie'em."

"Mickey Smith?" said Samuel. "No, I don't know him, and we're not related to him."

"Oh," said the man, looking disappointed. Toby picked up his glass and wobbled it on the bar in the silence that followed. The bartender seemed to understand.

"Wha' ya wan'?" he said. Toby understood _that_ one.

"Whiskey!" he said, proudly. Samuel looked over at his younger brother. Of course he would have whiskey. Toby had been drinking since he was old enough to sneak out of the house without getting caught. Samuel ordered beer. The bartender replaced Samuel's dirty glass with a filthy glass mug and filled it, and then he moved on to Toby.

"Name's Juh," he said.

"Joe?" said Samuel.

"Yup," said the bartender, turning to put the bottle of whiskey back on the shelf.

"Good to meet you," said Samuel.

"Yup," Joe repeated. He walked away, leaving the boys alone.

"We don't have that much money left," Samuel said quietly, leaning over to his brother's ear. Toby nodded.

The brothers drank silently, letting the noise of the men sitting at the table fill the space for them. Samuel found himself anxious to get home. All he wanted to do was sleep. Toby, however, still seemed to have energy. He finished his whiskey.

"I wonder what the rest of this place is like," he said.

"What do you mean?" asked Samuel.

"Don't you wanna see the rest of the city? You aren't curious about it? We could just walk around," Toby said, elbowing his brother in the arm.

"No, Toby," Samuel said. "No."

"Aw, Samuel - "

"No." This time Samuel was determined to not let Toby win. "We're already farther into the city than I wanted to go. Plus, we need to go check on our cart." Samuel thought about their cart, filled with food. They had just abandoned it in a cave. What was he thinking? Toby took a sip from his glass.

"I'll go check on the cart, okay? Will that make you feel better?" Toby talked to Samuel as if he were a child.

"Why don't we both go check on the cart and then take it home?" Samuel's head started to ache.

"You need to finish your drink," said Toby, pointing at Samuel's mug, which was still almost full. Toby emptied his glass and set it on the bar with a loud _clank_. "You don't wanna waste money, Samuel," said Toby, waving his finger like Ma.

"Fine, go check on the cart," Samuel said. He felt as though there were weights attached to his arms and legs. "Then come right back, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Ma," Toby said, downing his glass and jogging to the door. Without another word, Samuel turned back to his beer and found himself wondering how all of the liquid could fit into his bladder. He took a swig, smacking his lips and leaned forward on the bar.

He looked at Toby's glass and then at the bartender. Had he seen Toby finish his glass more than once? Suddenly, dread filled his stomach. Samuel peeked into his pouch, counting three coins, looking up every now and then to make sure Joe wasn't looking. The old man had his back to him as he counted bottles in the liquor cabinet. Samuel tapped his hand anxiously. He wasn't sure how many whiskeys Toby drank, and he had already taken a few more swallows of beer, thinking that Toby was still sipping his first drink. Samuel was pretty sure that he didn't have enough money to pay for their drinks, but he wanted to wait for Toby to return. Maybe Samuel was mistaken and his brother _did_ only have one drink.

"What time is it?" Samuel asked the old bartender. Joe turned around.

"S'abou' four," he said, turning back to the liquor cabinet. Samuel and Toby could still spare a few hours, assuming that there wasn't another storm, but still Samuel thought it would be wise to leave soon.

The bar was quieter now, and Samuel turned around to look at the circular table. Now, only three men sat at the table. They were the well-dressed ones in suits. One shuffled a deck of cards, and the others smoked and sat silently. The dealing man looked up and caught Samuel's eye, giving him a venomous glare, until he looked away. Samuel put his arms on the dusty bar and tapped his finger. The bartender took his mug to refill it before he could say anything.

"Oh, no, I don't - " Samuel said, as Joe grabbed the mug from in front of him.

"Wha'?" said Joe, placing the newly-filled mug back on the bar.

"Nothing," Samuel said, taking a swig. Suddenly, he was tempted to stay and just keep drinking.

"Hey, kid," a gruff voice sounded from behind him. Samuel turned around. The card dealer stared back at him with sharp eyes. "We need a forth," he said.

Samuel looked at the men, silently.

"Get over here," said the man on the right. "Grab yer drink." He kicked a chair out from under the table. It scooted toward Samuel, scraping on the hardwood floor.

"It's jus' cards," the card dealer said. "We ain't gonna hurt you, kid, 'less you try to cheat us." He motioned for Samuel to join them. "Now, come on."

Samuel got up from his stool and grabbed his beer, making his way slowly toward the table. The men had turned back around, and the card dealer watched him silently.

"You know how to play the Game of Nancy?" he said as Samuel sat down.

"Yeah," he said. "Not too good, though." Samuel had played the Game of Nancy at the local pub with Pa's drinking buddies a few times. He did not understand it at all when he first started playing, but the last time he played, he did better than before.

"I'll tell you what, the first game'll be practice. That sound good to you?" Samuel nodded, not quite understanding. "What's your name, son?" he said, taking a sip of whiskey.

"Samuel," he said, reaching for his beer.

"They call me Last Shot Thompson," said the card dealer. He wore a brown suit, and his hair and thin moustache were slick with grease. "This un's Ratchett." He pointed to the swarthy man on the right.

"Call me Hatchet," he said, stroking his bristled chin with a beefy hand. Last Shot ignored him.

"And this is Pike." Pike nodded from Samuel's left.

"What brings you here?" Last Shot asked, clutching the cards in his hand.

"I just came from the market," said Samuel. "Wanted a drink."

"From where?" Last Shot took a sip of whiskey from the glass in front of him. He leaned back.

"Old Pier," he said. Last Shot nodded, his eyes flashing to Hatchet and then Pike. The men chuckled, and Samuel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

The men fell silent again as the door opened behind him. Samuel turned around to see an extremely tall man. He was slim with light, sandy hair and blue eyes. His face was tanned and dotted with stubble. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter, jamming a cigarette between his lips. He smiled as the lighter burst to life, and he held it up to his cigarette, inhaling as it lit. The man walked forward toward the table, putting the cigarette between his fingers and exhaling through his nose, and eyed each of the men. His gaze lingered on Samuel.

"Who's this?" he said, seating himself in the chair to Last Shot's right after Pike stood, pulling his empty chair from the table.

"This here's Samuel," said Last Shot. "From Old Pier. Said he was at the market an' wanted a drink."

The tall man grunted and took another puff from his cigarette. Samuel carefully examined the man, trying not to stare. He wore an expensive-looking three-piece suit in charcoal-gray and sported a matching, gray boulder hat, which he did not remove.

"Mickey Smith," he said, gripping the cigarette between his teeth and holding out his hand. Samuel shook it. The man's grip was strong, and Samuel squeezed back, hoping he didn't seem too weak. Mickey Smith looked around at the men sitting at the table as though he were amused. His tan face crinkled around his bright blue eyes as he grinned. "Old Pier," he said thoughtfully. "Never been there. It far from here?"

"About a two-hour walk," Samuel said, politely. The other two men watched him with hawk eyes. "But the walk took longer this time, since there was a big storm. We kept getting stuck in the mud." Samuel gave a light chuckle.

Mickey grunted, disinterested in Samuel's reply.

"You say 'we'," he said. "Who else you come here with?"

"My brother, Toby," said Samuel. He opened his mouth to say more, but the man looked away again. Mickey turned to Last Shot.

"Who's the taker this round?" he said.

"Ratchett," he said, gesturing toward the man on Samuel's right.

"It's Hatchet, now," he said in a gruff voice, nodding at Mickey. Last Shot stifled a taunting snicker.

"Take my place," Pike said, still standing by the table.

"Thank you... Pike, right?" said Mickey. Pike nodded. "That's kind of you." Pike gave him a quick, polite smile. Samuel had the feeling that Pike was not giving his seat up as a favor.

"I'll be goin' now, boss," Pike said, waving briskly at Last Shot. Last Shot nodded once, and Pike turned to leave.

"Cigarette, kid?" Mickey said, reaching into his pocket.

"No, thanks," Samuel said slowly, turning the corners of his lips upward in a fake smile. "I don't smoke."

"Yeah? Huh," Mickey said, raising an eyebrow as though Samuel were some strange novelty.

Mostly everyone in Old Pier smoked, but since neither Pa or Ma had picked up the habit, Samuel never felt the desire to smoke.

"Look at those men, hacking away," Pa had said to him once when they were on the pier. Samuel looked over at the other fisherman, coughing and spitting as they worked. "You wanna stay strong, Samuel, you don't smoke."

Toby however, would smoke occasionally. Samuel had caught him a few times with some of the village boys, smoking and drinking in the warehouse after hours, but Toby had never made a habit of it.

"Here, kid. Shuffle," said Last Shot, leaning over the table to hand the cards to Samuel. He shuffled them as well as he could, aware of the three men's eyes on him the entire time. He passed the cards to Mickey on his left, and he cut the deck before handing the cards back to Last Shot.

Last Shot dealt the cards, and Samuel looked around the table, taking in what he could see, and then he looked down at his own cards.

"Did you all hear about -" Hatchet started.

"Kid, what the _hell_ are you drinkin'?" Mickey said. Samuel looked around, thinking he had done something wrong in the card game. Mickey reached for his mug. "Didn't your momma ever tell you you're not supposed to drink piss?" he said. "Hey, Joe!" Joe's head popped from behind the bar.

"Whiskey for the kid," he said.

"Arigh'," said the bartender, leaving again. He soon reappeared with a glass - a clean one - for Samuel and a bottle of Dunwall Whiskey. He left it on the table.

"Alright," Mickey said, smirking ambitiously. "Now, we can play." He looked at the middle of the table. "Nobody's bettin'?" he said.

"Yeah, just this round, Mickey," Last Shot said. "I told the kid we'd do a practice round."

"Practice round?" Mickey said. He reached over to put his hand on Samuel's shoulder. "Look, kid, the first thing you gotta learn about life is that there ain't no practice rounds." He patted Samuel's back. "So, place yer bets." The men threw a few coins in the middle of the table and then waited for Samuel.

"Go ahead, kid," Mickey said. Samuel looked into his pouch and picked out a coin, sacrificing it on the water-stained table. Mickey chuckled, catching a glimpse inside Samuel's pouch. "There's always somethin' else to bet," he said. Samuel didn't like the sound of that.

By the end of the round, the taker had lost, and Mickey, Last Shot, and Samuel divided the money amongst themselves, Mickey getting the highest cut and Samuel getting the lowest.

For the next round, Last Shot was the taker, and to Samuel's relief, he lost. Samuel watched as his small pile of money grew and found that he felt more relaxed now that he was into the game. The whiskey flowed, and Samuel lost track of how much he drank, as his glass was automatically refilled by either Hatchet or Mickey.

The game went better than Samuel thought it would, and he found that he was not as bad at the Game of Nancy as he thought he was. Each round seemed to go faster as Samuel and the men emptied the bottle of whiskey. Hatchet was the taker for the next round, and he lost. Then Last Shot again, and he lost. In the next round, though, Mickey was taker. He scanned the table with shrewd eyes.

"You know," he said as they played. "Last Shot, I got a proposition for you."

"Yeah?" said Last Shot. "What is it?" He looked through his cards.

"I've made some new friends in Dunwall and expanded my business," he said. "I'd appreciate it if you could maybe find some people to send to me. Ones you don't have to pay that much." Samuel listened to the conversation, trying not to lose track of the game. Mickey was doing well.

"I can do that," said Last Shot. "For double."

"Now, now," said Mickey. "You know I don't pay fixed salaries, Last Shot. Let's see how much you're able to bring to me. I'll give you a fair trade. You know I'm good for it."

"Yeah, I know," Last Shot said. "Alright. I know you won't cheat me." He held out his hand, holding his cards in his other.

"Never," said Mickey, reaching out his own hand.

Samuel looked to Hatchet, who was engrossed in the game. He redirected his gaze at Last Shot, only to find the man staring at him.

"You good with people?" he asked, taking a sip of whiskey.

"I guess," Samuel said. "Pretty good." Last Shot nodded approvingly.

"I can tell. It's a good skill to have, kid." The man's gaze dropped to his cards, and he said nothing more.

The game ended quickly with Mickey winning, but Samuel was content with his coin, seeing as it was more than he had arrived with. However, there was still the bill to worry about. He stared down as his empty whiskey glass. Mickey stood up.

"Joe!" he said. Joe appeared behind the bar.

"On'a house," he said. "Ya bra's too," said Joe, pointing at Samuel. Suddenly, he felt great, but his brother...

Toby still had not returned.

"What time is it?" he called to Joe.

"'Bout si'o' cloh," said the bartender. Samuel felt his heart beat faster.

"Hey kid." Mickey stood next to him, holding out his hand. Samuel shook it, forcing a smile. "Nice meetin' ya. Lemme know if you're ever in Dunwall and need a job. Just ask around for me," he said. He nodded at the rest of the men, who nodded back.

Soon, the three of them had left, and Samuel found himself alone, except for Joe, who was in the back. Samuel paced around the room a few times. He had drank much more than usual, and his vision swam. Suddenly, the bar felt stuffy and Samuel stumbled up the stairs, not bothering to say goodbye to Joe.

"Where the hell is Toby?" he said to himself. Samuel looked around and realized that he would have to go looking for his brother. He sighed and resigned himself to his fate, trudging down the road.

Samuel first tried looking for Toby by the cart, but he realized, after turning down a few streets, that he did not know the way. The whiskey clouded his mind, and a few wrong turns later, he had no idea how to get back to the bar or the market, but he figured that Toby would not be at the cart if he had taken so long to return.

_Either that, or the cart was missing when he got there,_ Samuel thought. Either scenario resulted in Toby wandering through the city, so Samuel wandered as well, hoping that he would run into his younger brother.

The sun started to set, and the streets had emptied. Samuel wandered about the main roads, trying to keep what was left of his bearings and avoid small alleyways. However, the streets started to look familiar, and Samuel thought that he would have no choice but to search the alleys for Toby. A woman and a little boy, both thin and frail, emerged from one of the alleys, turning toward an old wooden door leading into an apartment building.

"Um, Ma'am," he said. "I need to ask you a question." The woman looked at him, alarmed, and pushed her child away, shielding him with her legs. She fumbled with her key, sticking it into the door and twisting. It groaned loudly and clicked.

"No, I just need to ask you - " The woman opened the door, pushing the child in first and then entering the building herself. "I'm looking for - " Samuel started again, but the woman slammed the door behind her, and he was alone again.

Samuel looked around. He could tell that he was not in a good neighborhood. The stone buildings were older here, stained dark with soot and worn from age.

Samuel caught a flash of movement far in front of him.

"Hey," he said, running. "Wait!" The figure stopped and turned, but all Samuel could see was a shadow among more shadows. He neared the unknown person and saw that it was a woman. She wore a torn and stained dress and cloth shoes. She had thrown a shawl over her head and held it closed with her hands. She faced Samuel, waiting for him to arrive. At first, Samuel thought she was an old woman, but up close, he could see that she was only middle-aged, but she was very thin. Samuel wondered if she was ill. The woman smiled, making him shiver. She stared at him with hungry eyes.

"Greetings," she said with a slight bow. "What can I help you with this evening, young man?" she croaked. The woman hunched over and adjusted her shawl. Samuel could see her bones showing through her dress.

"I'm so happy to find someone here who'll actually talk to me," Samuel said, hoping he did not look as scared as he was.

"It's not the best idea to talk to strangers in these parts," said the woman. "It can be treacherous. Dangerous folk with dark minds live around here."

"I always thought Potterstead was a pretty well-off city," said Samuel. The woman smiled and did not reply. Samuel cleared his throat. "I'm looking for my brother," he said. "Have you seen him? He's a little shorter than me with light brown hair."

"Hm," said the woman, putting a finger to her chin. "In fact... Lori!" she turned her head to the open door and shouted into the building. After hearing a few moments of shuffling and footsteps, another woman appeared in the door. She was younger than the first, but just as pale and thin. The skin around her eyes was red and loose.

"Yes, Lady Rosethorne?" she said.

"A boy - We had a boy come by, did we not?," said the woman. "Is he still here?" She raised an eyebrow. Lori looked from Lady Rosethorne to Samuel and back at Lady Rosethorne again.

"Yes," she said, with a determined nod of the head. "He's still resting."

"Poor dear," Lady Rosethorne said, frowning. "Came in here scared and shaking. There are all sorts of horrible people around here." She waved Lori away. "Why don't you come in, dear?" Samuel started to step forward but stopped himself.

"I don't know if you have the right person," said Samuel, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

"Light brown hair? He has your eyes, too," said Lady Rosethorne, smirking slyly.

"What did he say?" Samuel asked.

"Sorry, dear?" she said.

"When he came here, what did my brother say to you?"

"Oh..." Lady Rosethorne stopped to think. "He said he was looking for his brother. He had gotten lost. I didn't want him out at night. He probably wouldn't have survived until morning, so I invited him inside. It's a very rare thing for us to have guests with our condition."

"Condition?" said Samuel. Lady Rosethorne looked down.

"Well, as you can see, I'm not exactly healthy," she said in her slow, sing-song voice. "Lori didn't look like she was feeling very well, either, did she?"

"No," said Samuel. Lady Rosethorne smiled - almost too sweetly.

"We are all like that here. All of us women, and all of us sick." Samuel took an instinctive step backward, but Lady Rosethorne held out a shaky hand. "No, dear, you won't catch anything from us. Don't worry about that. Most of us rot, eaten by our disease, but we cannot spread it." She sighed as though she were disappointed. "That is why this is called a house for the dead." Samuel looked up at the sign on the front of the building. The name had been painted onto old wood, but it was chipped and worn.

_Lady Rosethorne's House for the Dead_

"We run as a sick house," she said to Samuel. "We gather here together, those of us who had no hope. The sick come here to have each other, and," she whispered. "Sometimes we work to heal ourselves through certain - _spiritual_ \- practices, but do not tell the overseers. Though we rot to death, it is better than burning."

"Don't worry," said Samuel. "I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"Good," Lady Rosethorne said, frowning suddenly. "So, you will come in to see your brother? Perhaps he is awake by now."

"No..." said Samuel, hesitantly. "I don't think you have the right person."

"Oh, but how will you know if you don't have a look? You could search for him the whole night, having missed him right here," said Lady Rosethorne. Something didn't seem right about the situation to Samuel. He doubted Toby would knock on a door scared and shaking, so he was almost certain that they did not have his brother - even if they _did_ find a boy - and the look the woman kept giving him, of hunger, like a predator about to strike down its prey, made him uneasy. Whatever was going on, Samuel felt as that it was not a good idea to enter the building.

"It's just us women. We are frail and sickly. Surely, you cannot be afraid of us?" she gave him her thin smile again, spreading her hawkish face and twitching as Samuel stepped backward.

"It's not a good idea," said Samuel. He tried to peek inside, but there was only darkness through the threshold.

"Surely, _you_ are tired, dear. How about some tea before you continue your search?" the woman put both of her hands out. Her fingernails were long and unkempt, and her hands reminded Samuel of sharp talons.

"No," said Samuel. He backed away. Lady Rosethorne put her arms down and clenched her shawl.

"Very well, then," she said, calmly. "Please know that if you should need a place to stay tonight, the invitation still stands." She nodded with a smile on her face but anger in her eyes.

"Thank you, Lady Rosethorne," said Samuel, making his way briskly back to the street.

"Goodbye, young man," she said. "Come back and visit us soon. We poor women do love company."

It was fully night, now, and the streets were dark, except for the occasional lamp and the dim candlelight flickering from dusty windows. Samuel tried to keep from stumbling as he made his way blindly, once again, through the streets of Potterstead. He had completely lost his way, now, owing his disorientation to the many streets and alleyways in the city, the darkness, and his intoxication. The whiskey lurched in his stomach as his body begged for food. He ignored it, focusing on finding his way through the black streets. Somehow, he found his way out of the maze of buildings and alleys and found a street with some light ahead. Many lanterns had been lit, and the insides of the buildings had dim light as well. Samuel even thought he saw some people standing around. He suddenly remembered what Lady Rosethorne had said about the neighborhood being dangerous. He did not know who the people ahead were. He squinted, trying to get a better view, but it was no good. He neared slowly, trying to stay hidden in the dark.

"Hey." Samuel heard a voice echo toward him. He had been spotted, but the voice did not sound threatening. It was a female voice. "Who's that in the dark, there? Don't be shy." A thin woman sauntered toward him, her hips swaying back and forth. The others seemed to notice him, as well.

"Hey, handsome!" he heard another voice shout. Samuel cursed under his breath. He looked behind himself, but all he could see was the maze of alleys from which he had just freed himself.

"Why you standin' here all alone, big boy?" The woman had made it to Samuel and hooked her arms around his. He tried to grab his arm away, but she held on firmly. Samuel could see her face now. She was covered in dirt and soot and wore a short, red dress with a corset on top. The dress was stained and torn. Samuel could see bruises on the woman's face, and makeup streamed from her eyes down to her cheeks, framing her bright red-painted lips. She smiled, showing off the gaps in her rotted and crooked teeth. "Why don't you come with me?" she said, pulling his arm. "You don't wanna be out here alone. It's dangerous. Come inside... where it's safe." She dragged him toward the door, and Samuel yanked his arm away. He took a deep breath. The only way out of here was to go down that street. The women eyed him hungrily. Samuel was reminded of Lady Rosethorne and her predator-like eyes.

Samuel strode forward, picking up speed as he made his way through the group of aggressive prostitutes. They blew him kisses and grabbed at his arms. He smelled perfume, sickeningly sweet combined with the odor of the women's bodies. Suddenly, Samuel felt very determined to find Toby, hopefully alive, just so he could kill him again. The women surrounded Samuel, like wolves snapping at his heels, but eventually, Samuel made it to the end of the street. Some of the prostitutes still followed, but they stopped after a few blocks, howling after him.

Samuel stooped over, gagging, the whiskey threatening to rise from his stomach. He spat on the ground, but luckily, nothing else came up, and he stood and opened his eyes to stabilize himself.

He found himself on a shopping street, illuminated by lanterns. He looked around at the closed shops. They all seemed to be newly-painted, and their windows were clean and clear. Samuel approached one and looked at the name on the sign overhead, which read: Francesca's Fashions. He peered through the store window, catching glimpses of women's dresses, blouses, and pants. A large display of hats sat on a shelf to the left, and the store seemed to be decorated in some sort of patterned wallpaper, though it was too dark for Samuel to see the exact pattern and color of the walls. He had run two blocks from the poorest part of town, and now he found himself on a shopping street for the high-class citizens of Potterstead.

Samuel had heard that none of the nobility lived in Potterstead, but a few rich businessmen lived with their families in a small community at the top of the hill, overlooking the rest of the city and the ocean.

_I must've walked all the way to the other side of the city,_ Samuel thought. He looked around and found himself worrying about Toby again. He knew that Toby was not stupid. He _could_ take care of himself, as long as he didn't get into too much trouble. Samuel hoped that Toby had found a safe place to stay and hadn't roamed the streets all night long.

Samuel wandered close to the buildings, peering in at the shops though the windows. There were no bars over them, and he wondered how the shops managed to not get robbed, as the shopping street was so near to the dangerous neighborhood from which had just come. In the distance, Samuel could see the road curve back and forth up the hill, probably leading to the large houses belonging to the well-off citizens of Potterstead. He wondered what they looked like. He had never seen the home of a rich person. He had heard that they sprawled across the land, as big as villages and sometimes two to four stories high. Samuel gazed up the hill, considering climbing it, since he hadn't found Toby yet, but he also doubted that his little brother would have gone there.

He stopped by a lantern post, watching the mosquitoes and moths zigzag frantically under the flickering light. Maybe Toby _had_ returned to the bar to find Samuel gone. Samuel turned around, wondering how he would find his way back to the market and was tempted to wait until morning so that he could see better.

He walked alongside the shops, pondering what he should do next. The empty shopping street was a bit of peace nestled into the chaotic city, and Samuel wished he could stay, as he was not ready to face the dark and mean alleys of the rest of the city again. But Toby was still out there. Samuel found himself genuinely worried. Finally, he decided to head up toward the rich part of town to see if Toby had made his way there. Samuel's feet hurt, and the steep hill looked ominously tiring, but he had to find his brother. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The shops next to him were all connected, and Samuel passed by each one, catching his reflection in the glass. He really did look homeless. He glanced ahead and saw another homeless person sleeping on the ground in front of one of the shops. He looked as out of place as Samuel, and for a few seconds, the illusion of the shopping street broke away. This place was not a part of Potterstead, just as the pub was not. It was a bubble. Fragile and easily broken.

The feeling left Samuel almost as soon as it arrived, leaving him feeling as though it had never existed at all. The homeless man had not moved, and Samuel made his way toward him. He could see the man better, now, noting that he had curled up in front of a bakery. The man's clothes were dirty and wrinkled, and his shoes were caked in mud. Samuel glanced down at his own shoes, which looked very similar. He looked up again at the homeless man and caught a glimpse of sandy hair.

"Toby?" Samuel said. The figure stirred, and let his gaze wander the space around him before locking eyes with Samuel. "Damn it," said Samuel, "Where the hell were you?" He stomped toward his brother, whose bright blue eyes glowed against his mud-stained skin and clothes.

"Samuel..." Toby said, looking down at the ground.

"Why didn't you come back? I've been looking for you for hours. We're late, and Pa is gonna be furious. What were you thinking?" Samuel yelled. "Of course, Pa'll blame me for being late and making Ma worry. I told him that he didn't have to worry, and that I'd make sure to be back by - "

"Why didn't you just leave?" said Toby. Samuel could hear the strain in his voice. "You should've left me and gone back home, where you belong." He sniffled.

"What is it, Toby?" Samuel said. "Why would you think that I would just leave you? I searched everywhere for you, and you're - _here_ \- _sleeping_ in the street. I don't understand why you keep doing things like this. Do you want me to get in trouble with Pa? Is that it? Do you not like that I don't get in trouble, so you've been trying to get me into it? All those times you've disappeared and made me cover for you, all those times you never showed up when you said you would? Is that what it's all about?"

"No!" cried Toby.

"Then what is it?" Samuel said. Toby stayed silent. "You always have something to say, Toby, and now you're not going to talk to me?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Samuel!" Toby yelled. "You're always so hard on me. You're always disapproving of everything!"

"I always go along with your plans. How is that disapproving? How am I hard on you? I let you get away with everything," said Samuel.

"And complain the whole time. Why can't you at least pretend that you're happy to spend time with me?"

"What are you talking about?" Samuel growled.

"You just agree with me so I'll shut my mouth," Toby said, his face turning red.

"I agree with you because you'll just go off by yourself if I don't."

"Then you spoil all of it by complaining. You're the one who needs to shut up." Toby pointed at Samuel, lunging forward.

"Your plans aren't safe or smart most of the time. You just went wandering around an unknown city in the middle of night," Samuel exclaimed.

"So did you,"

"Looking for you!" Samuel paced in a circle, attempting to calm himself.

"Maybe I was looking for something too," Toby said as he clenched his fists.

"What?" Samuel said, turning on his brother.

"I - uh," Toby said, stumbling over his words. He bit his bottom lip.

"I don't care. I'm done. Next time I'll just let you get into whatever trouble you want. I won't help you out or follow you and spoil your fun. Are you happy? Oh, and next time you go missing, I'll just leave without looking for you," Samuel said, throwing his hands in the air. He looked at Toby, who had the same expression on his face as he did when Pa scolded him. Not one of fear, but one of indignation.

"Perfect. That's exactly what I wanted. You think you're so grown up, Samuel. All you can do is obey Ma and Pa. When you're not doing that, you're doing whatever I'm doing. Sometimes I think you'd follow me if I jumped off a bridge, since you wouldn't know what else to do. Why don't you go do something by yourself for once?"

"I follow you to keep you - " Samuel said.

"I do just fine. I do what I want. You follow rules, even if you don't want to. You're just a..." Toby struggled to think of a word. "Lap dog! A servant! A whore!" He grunted bitterly. "I don't know why I'm always trying to get your approval, Samuel. You're not even worth it. People are supposed to think for themselves, and you don't. You live just to eat treats from Ma's and Pa's hand. Then Pa hates me because I don't care about his treats, the ones he uses to control you."

" I..." Samuel hesitated. "I'm just not selfish like you. I can do what I want, but I like to look after my family. My parents who feed me and give me shelter, my brother who doesn't do anything, but I look after him anyway."

"Following me and agreeing to do whatever I say is looking after me?" said Toby. "Being obedient to Pa and Ma is looking after them?"

"It's not fair to stress them out and give them extra trouble with all that they've done for us," said Samuel.

"I'm sure the family would fall apart without you," Toby said, nastily.

"It _would_ ," said Samuel.

"Yeah, Samuel, you're that important. I'm sure. You're not a lap dog, you're the cement that keeps the family together." Toby shook his head. "You know, that might actually be true. Maybe the family _would_ fall apart without you. Without me, though..." Toby fell silent. Samuel sighed.

"Toby, the whole family loves you - "

"No," Toby interrupted. "You and Pa always find some way to show me that you're disappointed in me. Ma doesn't do it as much, but in a few years, she probably won't remember who I am anyway."

"Don't say that," Samuel growled.

"You know something's wrong with her. She'll probably just wander off one day like her - "

"Toby!" Samuel yelled. "I'm tired. I want to go home. I want to take a bath. I want to go to bed."

"You're not listening," said Toby.

_You're_ not listening," Samuel said. "Now, come on. We're leaving. We can still be back before sunrise."

"But, Samuel - " said Toby. Samuel turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Toby where he found him.

"Samuel!" Toby called again.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Come on." He kept walking.

"Samuel, you're not even going the right way," Toby said. Samuel stopped.

"What do you mean?" he said.

Samuel followed Toby down a small alleyway, keeping straight, and suddenly they were in the market. It was closed now, and the stands stood abandoned, giving the deserted marketplace an eerie atmosphere.

Samuel clenched his fists and headed to the beach, letting Toby trail slowly behind him. He made his way down the rocks, sliding as they came lose and rolled onto the flat beach. The sharp stones only reminded Samuel how much his feet hurt, and he still had to walk home. Resentment built up inside of him, and he looked back at Toby, who looked as though he had been crying. Samuel opened his mouth to tell Toby that he wouldn't fall for his act and feel bad for him this time. However, Samuel's anger dissipated as he came across an absurd scene. Toby caught up and stood next to him with his mouth open. By the cave, a group of children stood around a cart, carrying lanterns and torches. They whooped and hollered, watching two children stand on either side of it.

"I am the leader of this group!" a tall, familiar boy held his hands up in front of the crowd. "We're the Market _Boys'_ Gang. There are no girls allowed."

"I found it," said a girl on the other side of the cart. She wore a dirty jacket over a gray shirt tucked into brown pants. Her shoulder-length, tea-stained hair was frizzy and tangled. She stepped forward. "It's mine, so if I share it with you, I join your gang." The boys around the circle fussed at each other, some supporting the boy and others siding with the girl.

"How can you all betray the gang?" said the boy. "We can take this food by force! She's just one girl." Noise erupted again from the crowd.

"Not without a fight," the girl said, picking up a stick. She reached over the cart and bopped the boy on the head. The crowd cheered.

"Fight, fight, fight!" they chanted. The boy stepped away from the cart, and one of the boys in the crowd supplied him with a stick. The other children stood back as the boy and the girl moved to face each other.

"I, Sadie, challenge Len, leader of the Market Boys' Gang, to a fight."

"Ha, get ready. I'll beat you in no time!" yelled Len.

"If you win, you get the cart and all the food - "

"I can taste the food now!" Len laughed melodramatically.

"And if I win, I get to join the gang!" She paused. "No, I get to be the _leader_." The boys gasped, whispering to one another. Sadie put her stick in the air. "And then we feast!" she said, drawing a cheer from the crowd.

Samuel groaned as he watched the children, not quite sure what to do.

"Could anything else stop us from leaving?" Samuel complained. Toby shrugged.

"At least the cart's still there. We didn't leave it in the best spot," Toby said. Samuel glared at him.

"You said - "

"I just wanted a drink," Toby said.

Loud cheers erupted from the cave, and the two children stood across from each other, swinging their sticks. Len ruthlessly swiped at Sadie's head, kicking her in the shins and stomping on her feet when he could. Sadie circled him, trying to get around to hit Len in the back. Suddenly, she screamed and lunged, knocking him backward. He tripped, falling over his feet and ending up on the ground. The boys cheered wildly as the girl beat him, first breaking his stick, then repeatedly hitting his face. Len covered his head, crying and screaming as blood flew from his nose and through his fingers. Shouts of "Sadie!" sounded from the crowd.

"Sadie as leader!" someone said. "Sadie, Sadie!" they cheered.

"No!" said Len, choking on blood.

"Sadie! Leader! Sadie! Leader!" Now the whole crowd cheered, and Sadie held her bloody stick up in savage victory.

"Okay," Samuel said. "Toby, come on, we're getting our cart back."

"But, I wanted - " Toby started. Samuel grabbed his arm and strode toward the cave. The cheering subsided as Samuel pushed through the crowd with Toby behind him.

"Who are you?" Sadie demanded, pointing her stick at Samuel.

"This is our cart," Samuel said, flatly. "We're taking it now and leaving." Sadie jumped forward, swinging her stick toward Samuel.

"Not without a - " Samuel grabbed the cart, wrenching it toward himself. He charged through the crowd of boys, pulling the cart, and Toby cleared the way in front of him, mercilessly shoving the children aside. Some of them booed, and others pulled at his clothes. Samuel felt a few rocks hit his back.

"They're hitting me!" Toby said, as some children tried to surround him and hit him with sticks.

"Keep going!" Samuel said. The brothers ran with the cart away from the beach and back to the road, until the children gave up and abandoned the chase.

Samuel and Toby stopped, collapsing to the ground and panting. Toby giggled.

"That was great," he said, looking to Samuel. Samuel did not smile back. He stood and pulled the cart.

"Let's go," he said. Toby frowned.

"You're still mad?" he said. "You never stay mad for long, Samuel."

"I'm glad you've got me all figured out," Samuel said. "I wouldn't know what to do." He tugged the cart forward, making Toby move at a faster pace.

"Fine, Samuel," Toby said. "What should I say? It's all my fault. I mess everything up. You're right, and I'm wrong. Now, do you feel better?"

Samuel's shoes squished as they hit the ground, which was still muddy. He sped up.

"Stop that," Toby said, trying to slow the cart again. Samuel tugged the handle, trying to move ahead, but soon he felt his feet slipping. He put his hands out to keep his balance and stumbled into Toby, knocking his younger brother into the mud. Toby looked up at him in rage.

"So, now you're pretending to stumble into me so you can push me down?" Toby said. "You're too good to just take a swing?"

"Toby, don't be an idiot - " Samuel started.

"What if I told you to? Hey, Samuel, hit me. Right now." Toby rose from the mud and stomped toward his brother. "Now. Do it. I command you to!" He held his hands up dramatically. Samuel turned to grab the cart and continued down the road. He had not made it five steps before he felt something barrel into him from the side, sending him sliding through the mud. He glared up at Toby, getting on his feet before his brother could hit him again. He pushed Toby into the cart and swung his fist at his face; bright red blood flew from Toby's nose as Samuel's fist connected with his flesh. Toby flailed his arms at Samuel, throwing erratic punches. Samuel grabbed Toby and threw him down, kneeling to punch his younger brother again. Toby managed to hit Samuel again as he got close, but Samuel followed up by punching Toby's face again. Samuel, seeing Toby's blood, seized his brother's shoulders and shoved him down. Soon, the boys were wrestling, blood and mud strewn across their faces and clothes. The fight ended after Samuel lay against the cart, refusing to hurt Toby again.

"Come on!" Toby said, his face red.

"No," said Samuel, panting. "We're done."

"We are _not_ finished!" Toby kicked Samuel's foot. "Get up!"

"I _do_ need to get you back home in one piece," said Samuel.

"I'll get myself home in one piece. Apparently I don't have the same responsibility to you, though. Pa already knows that you can get home fine all by yourself," said Toby. Samuel stood up. Tired and beaten, he grabbed the cart and started forward.

"Are you taking your end of the cart?" Samuel asked.

"No," said Toby coldly. "I'm not responsible enough to do anything for this family." Toby turned and headed down the road, refusing to look back at his elder brother.

"Where are you going?" Samuel called.

"To the only person who accepts me as myself," Toby yelled back. "To the only person who says that she loves _me_ and means it!"

Samuel called after his brother again, but even if Toby had heard him, he did not turn back.

* * *

Samuel arrived in Old Pier dirty, bloody, hungry, cold, and with aching arms and legs. He dragged the cart of groceries behind him, feeling like an ox. The village was quiet and empty, and no light shined, except for a few lanterns outside of the houses. He made his way past the town's center, where the sermon hall stood, solemn and still as death, but as Samuel passed, the bunk room lights suddenly ignited, as if he had awoken the building, the two bright windows peering at him, like the shining eyes of a monster in the darkness. Samuel stopped to look for a moment, but he saw no figures move within the room. He shivered and continued on, making his way toward the south end of town.

The house was warm as Samuel entered, leaving the muddy cart outside.

"Samuel!" Ma ran to him, cupping his chin in her hands. She kissed his cheeks, and tears ran from her eyes.

"Ma, I'm fine," he said, surrendering to his mother's touch. He looked up at Pa, who glared back at him, silently.

"Where were you?" he said, forcefully. Ma looked back at Pa.

"John, don't do this now," she said. "He's bleeding." She ran to get a rag from the backyard. Pa stepped forward, raising an eyebrow, his mouth chiseled into a frown.

"I..." Samuel started. He looked to Pa's expectant face. "I, um, there was a storm on the way there, and it slowed us down. Then our wagon got stuck... bad. We didn't wanna leave it, so we tried to push it out. It happened a few times too, on the way there and on the way back, I even fell on my face. We didn't get to Potterstead till three." Samuel hoped Pa would believe his lie.

"It took you seven hours to get to Potterstead?" Pa said, crossing his arms.

"Maybe it was two o' clock," Samuel said, looking toward the ground. Pa nodded.

"Well, Samuel, I trust you. So, I'm glad you managed to bring the cart back and get the groceries, and I'm sorry about the storm. Now, one more thing," said Pa. Samuel looked up at him. "Where's your brother?" Samuel gulped.

"At a friend's house - Michael's house." Samuel was pretty sure Toby had not seen Michael in a while. He didn't even know if they were still friends.

"Alright," Pa said, turning around. He passed Samuel, going outside to examine the groceries, but he stopped at the door. "Toby left you to bring the cart by yourself?" he said, looking to Samuel.

"Yeah," said Samuel, rubbing the back of his head. "He was upset for some reason and didn't wanna come home. I didn't wanna force him." Pa left the house to rummage through the cart.

Ma had returned with the cloth and wiped the blood from Samuel's face.

"You poor thing," she said. Her eyes were still red from crying. "That jacket is going straight to the backyard." She took Samuel's jacket, sliding it off his shoulders, and made her way outside.

"Samuel." Pa called him from outside, and Samuel nearly groaned. He trudged out the front door and found Pa digging through the cart. "I sent Toby with some extra money for a slice of cake for your Ma. Did he buy it?" Samuel shook his head. Pa's face darkened.

"That boy," he said. His hands clenched the cart. "Damn it, I bet he ran off with the money too. I saved for _weeks_ to afford that ridiculously expensive cake. He's probably drinking with his friends, even after I told him - "

"I think," Samuel said. "I saw him arguing with a baker who said he didn't have something that Toby was looking for. I just thought he wanted sweets, but..." He trailed off. The redness receded from Pa's face.

"Oh, I see," he said. "And after that, your brother didn't wanna come home?" Samuel nodded. Pa slapped the cart lightly and leaned over the basket, bowing his head.

* * *

"Samuel, I started some bath water for you," Ma said as he entered. "What about Toby? Should I get a bath ready for him too?"

"Toby's away for the night," Samuel said, too tired to explain further.

"Oh," Ma said, casting her eyes downward.

"Ma?" said Samuel. "Pa mentioned some expensive cake at the market, and I was wondering if you knew what it was." Ma's face lit up.

"Oh," she said, smiling. "That silly cake. When your Pa and I were younger, we went to the market. I was bearing you at the time, Samuel. You must have been only three to four months then, growing in my womb. Well, we headed to the bakery section, and there was this rich fellow. I remember he looked so out of place, not wanting to touch anything. He had a man trailing behind him, and he did whatever the rich man said.

"Your father and I got our money together to split a tart, and the rich man bought this colorful slice of cake from the baker. Well, he left, and we got our tart. It was all we could afford back then, and it was so small. We ate it in just a few bites, but as we paid for it, John asked the baker what the colorful cake was. The baker told us it was, um," Ma stopped to think. "Five layers, strawberry, vanilla, _chocolate_ cake, hardened caramel, and an entire layer of _real_ chocolate. I don't remember what it was called, but, oh, it sounded delicious." Samuel felt his mouth water.

"I've never had chocolate," he said.

"Neither had we," she said. "But, of course, we couldn't afford the cake, and I was thankful for the tart, but as we left the bakery section, we saw the rich man taste the cake and then spit it out. Then he just set it on one of the stands and left! Well, your father and I didn't wanna seem like poor beggars who just eat food off the street, but..." she gave Samuel a sly smile. "Well, it was the best thing I had ever tasted. Just amazing." Ma put her hands on Samuel's arms. "Maybe one day you'll get to try it. I can save up some money. How does that sound?" She brushed Samuel's hair back with a gentle hand. "You're such a good boy. You deserve a treat."

Samuel frowned.

"I - I think I'd like to take a bath now, Ma," he said. "Thank you."

"Of course, Samuel. Anything for my boy."

Taking a hot bath was a luxury in Old Pier, and at the Beechworth house, the tub was used only after a long day of travel or on a special occasion, as it took much time and effort to boil enough water to fill it.

Before Samuel could object, Ma lugged one of the buckets of water to the stove and picked it up, her tiny body straining from the weight. The stove had already been lit, and Ma added more wood, waiting for the water on top of the stove to boil. Samuel helped her out by taking the hot buckets of water outside to pour into the tub. It was just about half-full, but Ma insisted that she boil more water.

"You're filthy, Samuel," she said. "You'll be bathing in nothing but mud, unless we add more water." So, Samuel waited for the water to boil and once again took it outside when it was ready. While Samuel and Ma readied the bath, Pa sat at the table in quiet contemplation. Samuel opened his mouth to talk to him, but Ma lightly grasped his arm and shook her head.

The bath was finally ready, and Samuel thanked Ma, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She gave him a tight hug, and then Samuel went out back.

As Samuel relaxed in the hot bath. He could see the steam rise from it in the cool, night air, and he couldn't help but feel calm.

_He'll be back by tomorrow morning, just like always,_ Samuel reassured himself. It was just like any other time Samuel had lied for Toby. He sat back, resting his head on the tub's wooden edge and gazing at the stars. The night looked different from inside the village, the shadows no longer menacing. He could bathe outside in peace, knowing that he was safe, even in the middle of the night. Potterstead seemed like a dream. The absurdity of the entire day spun through Samuel's head. The dusty bar and the old bartender, the card-playing thugs, Mickey Smith, Lady Rosethorne, the hungry prostitutes, the mob surrounding the dueling children - all of it, all in just one day, was nothing he had ever experienced before. He had been to Potterstead plenty of times, but never had he left the marketplace, and as soon as he stepped outside of the market's borders, real city life set in. It was dirty, it was unpredictable, and most of all, it was strange, and those people lived it everyday.

Samuel's small fishing village seemed like the best place to be, and he wondered how he could have ever considered leaving, but a small part of him knew why, and that small part of him knew that even though he had spent the day scared, frustrated, tired, and hungry, he liked it. He had always liked it. It gave his life color where there was none, and every time, it was Toby who made it that way. Samuel did not want to admit it, but even though he loved living a simple life, going off to do something new did not seem like such a bad idea. Samuel knew that he would never do it by himself, though.

_Sure, this family might fall apart without me, but I would fall apart without Toby_.

Samuel closed his eyes, ridding himself of the thought and clearing his head, but the wind soon brought whispers, calling his name. He thought of the bone charm he had buried in the ground. He imagined it calling to him as it smothered, alone and forgotten, surrounded on all sides by the cold earth. It cried, realizing that there was no hope, that no help would come, and that it would perish. Still it cried. It begged, pleaded for anyone to help. It screamed for Samuel, saying his name over and over again, but soon the name was forgotten, and all it could say was _help... help..._ The cry echoed through Samuel's body, bouncing off his skin and bones, ringing his skull, like a bell.

The air turned cold, and Samuel realized that his bathwater had cooled. He rose from the bath, shivering, and dried himself off, putting on clean clothes. Inside, the lantern had already been extinguished and both Ma and Pa were asleep in the loft. Samuel felt his way to the ladder, holding his hands out in front of him, and crawled under his blanket. He looked over at Toby's empty spot, the blackened quilts left untouched. He assured himself again that Toby was fine and closed his eyes. However, sleep would not come. There was no room for Samuel's own thoughts, and he tossed and turned, stricken by a bout of feverish insomnia, occasionally forcing himself to lay still and let the quiet breathing of his parents lull him to sleep. It was all in vain, though. Samuel's body screamed for rest, but it was a wish he could not grant, because even as he hid in the darkness, with the walls of his warm house separating him from the unknown that dwelled outside, all he could hear was _help... help..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguments, revelations, and even a few dreams. Decisions are made. Samuel gets a glimpse of life on the other side of the law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked at the Empire's calendar and was a bit confused about it, because the harvest is after winter. After learning some quick facts about certain plants, I have decided that everything (except for a few things, like corn) that is grown on Gristol will be planted in the fall at the beginning of the year, left out during the winter, and then harvested in the spring. It is the end of summer right now for Samuel, so I am saying that it is the Month of Songs right now. I will have summer continue into the next year for the Month of Earth, and then the beginning of the Month of Seeds marks the start of the fall.
> 
> I'll put a chart at the end of the chapter if anyone cares to read it.
> 
> This isn't the best-written chapter, but it's probably the best I can do at the moment. This will probably be another one that I'll have to re-edit later.

* * *

Samuel awoke shivering, damp and cold with sweat. All he had dreamt of the night before was chaos. Screams, fear, pain and most of all, fire, had ravaged his dreams, spreading through his thoughts and burning them to ashes. He awoke, thinking he slept on scorched earth, covered in a blanket of crispy, burnt flesh with bitter smoke stinging his eyes and nostrils. All around him, voices sang in joy, smiling at his agony. _Burn, and you will be free,_ they said. He saw people he knew - Ma, Pa, Toby - being roasted over fire pits, stiff and still as their skin blackened and cracked, just like the pig he had seen when he was younger. Samuel stood in a crowd, surrounding the scene, and a man reached out, peeling away a strip of Toby's skin and popping it into his mouth. Though he was not the man from the High Winter festival, there was something familiar about him, but Samuel did not recognize his face. He licked the grease from his fingers, looked to Samuel with cold, unfeeling eyes and smiled.

Samuel rose from bed with the sudden urge to take a swim. He caught himself thinking that it would take the fire away, but his rational mind kicked in, pushing the fog of sleep away, and Samuel told himself that the fire was only in his dreams. Still, he descended the ladder and exited the house in a daze, leaving Ma to stare at the door.

The cool air outside was refreshing, but Samuel needed the water. He needed the sea. Villagers greeted Samuel as he passed, but he talked to no one, focusing on his goal. The pier was crowded today, with fishermen preparing to leave in boats and others arriving with fresh fish, flopping angrily in nets and buckets.

He threw his shirt off and waded into the water. His feet were still sore and cracked, and the seawater stung them, but he paid them no mind as he ventured out farther. He looked back to see some of the villagers staring at him, and Samuel realized that he had never seen anyone, besides the children, swim in the water. Most just stayed on the pier, and that was only to work.

The water was up to his chest now, and Samuel was tempted to go farther, but instead, he leaned back, letting his body float on top of the shallow waves. The sky was a cool periwinkle, overcast with gray, and Samuel could feel the ocean breeze as it swam over his body, as if he and the water that surrounded him were one in the same. Peace flooded his body, and he closed his eyes, listening to the rushing waves and the flapping water over the artificial sounds of conversation and laughter from the pier, rumbling boats, and screeching gulls. The water lightly whipped his skin, hitting his arm with a quiet _splish thunk_ , as he bobbed up and down, riding the waves in their endless cycle.

Samuel's mind was empty, and he felt as though he could stay in the water forever. It welcomed him, like an old friend and cradled him, like a child, singing songs of both home and faraway places. The sea was one body of water, in so many places at once. It saw so many sights, and it was eager to tell its tales.

Town life caught up with Samuel again, as a boat engine roared past him. He could smell smoke and burning oil, which threatened to suffocate him. The rumbling was louder, now, drowning out the sounds of the ocean. It called his name.

"Samuel." Samuel felt the vibration of the boat's engine and opened his eyes to see Pa's face peeking over the side from above. The boat broke the surface of the water as it neared, and Samuel sat up, letting his feet hit the ground.

"Help me with the boat, would ya?" said Pa. Pa drove the boat a little closer to shore, and Samuel helped him tie it to the dock.

"You're back early," Samuel said, studying the boat. "And with no fish."

"Ah, I just needed some time to myself, son," Pa said, patting Samuel on the back. Apparently, Samuel wasn't the only one who found the ocean peaceful. "What time is your brother getting back?" Pa asked.

Samuel rubbed the back of his head.

"I'm not sure. If he's not back by midday, I'll go look for him," he said. Pa nodded, and the two headed back to the house.

Samuel arrived to find Ma sitting at the table with a frown on her face. She sighed, slumping down with her head bowed.

"Ma, we're back," said Samuel. Ma looked up at him with a tight smile, her eyes crinkling.

"Samuel," she said, standing to give him a hug. "Don't leave me here alone so long. I get lonely." She kissed him on the forehead.

"Amelia," Pa said, beckoning Ma to him. He embraced her in his large arms, making Ma look even tinier than usual.

"John," said Ma, closing her eyes.

Samuel headed to the backyard, his mind pivoting to Toby. He was probably still at Susannah's house or out selling bone charms. He remembered the fight they had the day before. It was rare that their arguments turned physical, and Samuel could not help but feel bad about hurting his brother. The thought of Toby's blood mixed with the slimy mud made him cringe, and he decided then and there to never hit his brother again, no matter how angry he was. Toby was still his younger brother, and Samuel had not fought with him like that since they were children. They were not children anymore, though. The adult thing to do, Samuel thought, would be to talk out their problems, but he figured that most likely, he would just keep his extra anger to himself, settling with loud arguments. Samuel, feeling satisfied with himself, continued with his morning ritual.

Midday came and went, and Toby still had not returned. Pa decided to stay home for the day, saying that he wanted to be home when Toby returned.

_It's just like Toby to get Ma and Pa worried,_ Samuel thought. He helped out around the house, assisting Ma with the laundry and cleaning and patching the roof with Pa. Soon, though, Samuel decided to look for his brother, as both of his parents seemed to be doing a poor job on their chores. Ma left spots and stains on the clothes, sometimes dropping them on the ground as she hung them to dry, and Pa hit his fingers with the hammer more than once.

"Don't worry," Samuel said. "I'll get him. He's probably just doing one of his usual activities."

The trip to Susannah's house seemed a lot shorter this time around. He crossed the cornfield, which was not nearly as confusing during the day, and soon, he was at Susannah's old farm house. Samuel peered through the window with the same results as last time and headed to the kitchen door. It was unlocked as before, and Samuel stepped into the kitchen, his heavy footsteps sounding loud amidst the silence of the house. The floorboards creaked under his feet.

Samuel turned to the left, noticing immediately that all of the dishes had been removed from the cabinets. Their doors swung open, one of them off of one of its hinges. Samuel ventured further into the house, and the cozy living room in which he had relaxed with Toby and Susannah was completely empty.

The loveseat, the couch, the end table, the book, all of it was gone, leaving nothing but a scratched, wooden floor. The front door had been forced open, and large splinters of wood lay scattered on the floor. The house was not inviting anymore, instead giving off an eerie vibration that filled Samuel with a feeling of disquiet.

Samuel hurried upstairs, checking each room. They were all the same. Floor, walls, ceiling, and nothing else. Suddenly, Samuel worried for his brother. Could Toby have been there when this happened? Samuel hurried outside to check the cellar.

The cellar door had been chopped open, and Samuel made his way down the stairs, wood crunching beneath his feet. He could already tell that it was no use as soon as he entered the cellar. The secret door was open, and it held nothing but blackness.

_I told her... I told them both... Toby..._ Samuel felt his eyes water, and he ascended the stairs, defeated.

* * *

Toby, Susannah, and Samuel sat in the living room of the farm house, relaxing by the fireplace, Samuel on the couch, and Toby and Susannah on the love seat.

"I would sure love some tea," said Samuel, suddenly yearning to feel the spicy warmth running through his body.

"Oh, I can't make it now," said Susannah. "I have to answer the door in a little bit, and it's too dangerous in the kitchen with the fire."

"Oh," said Samuel, slumping back on the sofa.

"It'll be here, soon. Don't worry. It works much better than tea," she told him. Her eyes flashed yellow and narrowed into slits. Samuel was still disappointed, but if he could not have tea, then he could not have tea.

"Samuel," Toby said. "Did you hear about Old Pier?" Samuel shook his head.

"No," he replied, taking a sip of tea. It was bitter and salty. Samuel shivered.

"It sank," Toby told him. "Right into the ocean, but everyone's still down there." An image formed in Samuel's mind of the villagers going about their daily business as though they were not surrounded by saltwater. They plucked fish right from the air with their hands and threw them into nets, taking them to the warehouse.

"I hope Samuel and Toby are safe." Samuel heard Ma's voice and saw Pa holding her as they sat in the house. Ma cried as Pa comforted her. "We'll never see them again," she sobbed.

"I know," said Pa. Samuel shouted at them, but his cries were muffled.

"I'm here!" he yelled. "Toby's okay, too!" His parents could not hear him, and Samuel's limbs felt thick and heavy under the water. He lay down, closing his eyes.

He awoke on the couch in Susannah's house and looked over to see his brother and Susannah sitting where he had left them.

"Samuel!" Toby said. "It's good to see you."

"I'm sorry," Samuel said. Toby looked at him with sad eyes, but Susannah's eyes were closed. Suddenly, Toby shook her.

"Susannah, wake up!" he cried. Samuel could see tears streaming down his younger brother's face. "Susannah, please!" Samuel tried to sit up and found that he could not. Bright light flickered by his feet, and Samuel realized that the kitchen fire had spread.

"We need to get out of here," Samuel said, but Toby ignored him, still crying and shaking Susannah. "The fire. There's a fire. We need to get out of the house." Samuel heard the fire close in on them, and it burned around the room, consuming the walls, until it surrounded the three of them. Samuel could feel the heat now, and the fire spread to his arm. He looked to his side, horrified to see that both Toby and Susannah were on fire. Toby did not seem to notice and still shook Susannah, screaming her name. His skin burned and cracked.

"Toby!" he cried. "Toby, no!" Samuel realized that his skin was burnt too, but he felt nothing. Susannah was nearly almost engulfed in flames, and Toby still tried to wake her.

"Susannah!" Samuel heard Toby yell so loudly that it drowned out the sound of the flames. It seemed to work, and Susannah opened her eyes, first revealing the normal sparkling green of her irises, but soon they turned yellow and her face morphed into a look of pure horror. She screamed. She screamed as Samuel had never heard any one scream before. Terror, pain, anger, sadness, and regret burst forth from her mouth, and the sound echoed in Samuel's ears, growing louder. Soon, it was all he could hear, and all he could see were the flames.

"Samuel." Samuel awoke to the familiar darkness of home, but something had gotten a hold of his shoulder. He shook his arm, slapping the hand away.

"Ow," he heard in a whisper. "Stop that."

"Toby," Samuel said, suddenly wide awake.

"I need to talk to you outside," Toby said, and Samuel followed him, grabbing his boots before he left the house. As soon as he stepped outside, Toby grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward the side of the house.

"She's gone, Samuel. Susannah - " he cried. His eyes watered.

"I know," replied Samuel. "I went to her house, today, looking for you. I was worried that you were gone too." Even in the dark, Samuel could still see that Toby wore his muddy clothes from the day before. "Why don't you go take a bath, Toby? I'll even boil the water for you."

"No," said Toby. He paced back and forth. "I need to find her. Samuel, please help me."

"What can I do about it, Toby?" Samuel asked. He knew that in a short time he would regret having asked, but his brotherly instinct kicked in, as always.

"Just come with me, that's all," Toby said. "You don't even have to do anything, just follow me, okay?" Samuel knew there was more. There was always more.

"Fine," Samuel agreed. "Where are we going?" Toby took off, zooming past Samuel, and just like he said he would, he followed. They did not have to go far, and Samuel realized that Toby had led them to the sermon hall.

"They took her," Toby said, scowling. He coughed once. "I know they did. The overseers."

"Toby, how do you know that?" Samuel asked. "Maybe she just ran off. She seemed like the type - "

"No!" yelled Toby.

"Be quiet," Samuel snapped. Toby glared at him.

"She did not run off. She wouldn't do that," Toby said in a lowered voice.

"Okay," replied Samuel. _She probably wouldn't chop her own front door down either,_ he said to himself. "So, why are we here at night? Shouldn't we wait until morning to ask the overseers..." Samuel trailed off, realizing what Toby meant to do. "Toby, _no_. You are _not_ breaking in. She's probably not even in there. I've been in their living quarters. They're small. There's nowhere to put her."

"Then I'll find out where she is," Toby said through his teeth.

"To - "

"You _said_ you'd follow me. So follow me." Toby trudged to the front door of the hall, taking a long, thin object out of his pocket. He stuck it in the keyhole.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Samuel asked. He liked to think that his brother was still innocent, but he knew that Toby had done his share of thievery. However, he never suspected that Toby would break into any of the houses. He hadn't stolen from the neighbors, had he?

"Eh, around," Toby said, shrugging. Toby struggled with the lock for a while, and Samuel waited, scanning the town square for any witnesses.

"Toby, this isn't working. You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Samuel whispered.

"Yes I do. Now, be quiet."

This pattern was all too familiar to Samuel. It seemed as though his argument with Toby never happened.

"Got it," Toby said, twisting the knob. "Come on, Samuel."

"Why don't I keep watch?" Samuel suggested.

"But you said - "

"I know what I said, but I didn't know we'd be doing anything illegal, and we're breaking the Forth Scripture, the Roving Feet one. We're going to the Void, Toby. We're gonna go to the Void," Samuel said desperately. He did not want to be there. He did not want to be a part of Toby's plans, but he didn't want Toby going through with it either.

"We break the scriptures all the time. What's wrong with you?" Toby said. Samuel realized that he was clenching his fists. He relaxed, rolling his shoulders and neck. He sighed.

"I don't know. I'm just on edge. I've been so worried about you, and did you realize that we're trespassing on _Abbey_ property? What if the overseers find us?" Samuel shuddered at the thought of those scowling masks staring at him with actual malice.

"They won't if you just shut up," said Toby.

"You shut up, and let's go home." Samuel knew he wouldn't win and regretted offering help to his younger brother.

"Samuel, how old are you? You're acting like you're ten-years-old," Toby said, mocking Samuel's voice. The brothers looked at each other. "If you're trying out something new, I don't like it. Why don't you just refuse for a bit and then follow along? That's what you usually do."

"Well," Samuel started. "When I do what I usually do, I tend to end up in bad situations, and I clean up your messes so that you don't get in trouble." It was Potterstead all over again.

"Yeah, and then you make up a good lie, and neither of us get in trouble. Don't you like it that way? You wouldn't want me getting in trouble with Pa, would you?" Toby asked. Samuel stopped to consider it.

"You've gotten in trouble with Pa plenty of times," he replied. "You have to be used to it by now."

"That doesn't mean that I _want_ to get in trouble," Toby said. Samuel wondered if dawn would arrive soon.

"But Pa and Ma trust me - "

"Which means that you can make up any lie, and they'll believe you. Even if the lie doesn't make sense." Toby said.

"That's not the point," pleaded Samuel. "I can't disappoint them."

"I do it all the time," Toby said. "And I feel free." Samuel groaned.

"Not this again," he said.

"I agree," Toby replied. "Let's just get this over with and then we can go home."

"I'm not letting you break into the overseers' living quarters."

"Yes, you are," Toby reasoned. "I know you too well, big brother." Toby turned, disappearing into the blackness of the building.

_Go home,_ Samuel told himself. _Leave Toby, and go home._ He _did_ say that he would help Toby find Susannah, and the sermon hall would be the place to find any clues.

The darkness engulfed him as he stepped across the threshold, and the hall brought memories of Sermon every week. Samuel had all of the Strictures memorized, as he recited them with the rest of the town at Sermon, and the Forth echoed through his head. Samuel could hear his footsteps, crystal clear in the unusual silence of the building, and the doors of the house loomed before him.

Samuel followed Toby into the overseers' living quarters, the wood creaking beneath his feet. He stepped as lightly as he could, but still, he could not be completely silent. They turned left into the narrow hallway, and Toby motioned for Samuel to take the room to the right.

Right away, Samuel could tell that his room would not be any help, as it was the kitchen, but he went inside, hoping to satisfy Toby. In the dark, Samuel could not see much, but from what he remembered, there was a wooden table with four chairs in the middle of the room. He widened his eyes and realized that he could see the outline of the chairs, so he passed them carefully and searched the rest of the room. Stove, shelves stocked with bottles, jars and boxes, icebox, meat storage locker. Just as he suspected, there was nothing helpful in the kitchen. He turned around, heading for the hallway.

Toby pointed farther down the hall, and the brothers checked the next rooms. This one, Samuel remembered, was filled with books. He stepped tenderly on the floor, making sure not to step on or trip over any books. He realized that Toby had, as usual, not planned ahead by bringing supplies he would need. _Except for the lock pick_ , Samuel reminded himself. Fumbling around the building at night would probably yield no results, as it was too dark to identify any useful objects, and Toby had not thought to bring lanterns.

He left the room, not bothering to venture any further into book-mine-riddled area. Toby was already in the hall, and Samuel suspected that he had had the same problem as Samuel.

"I'm going upstairs," Toby whispered. "Will you search the rest of that room for me?" He pointed to the room from which he had just come. "Please? I think there might be something in there, but I wanna check upstairs. Just, search around while I'm gone, okay?"

"Okay," Samuel said, wanting to progress quickly so that they could leave. "Go. I'll look around, and be careful. They all sleep up there." Toby turned and slowly crept up the stairs, and Samuel disappeared into the blackness of the room. He shuffled his feet, feeling his way along the wall with his hands, and tried to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He had no idea what the purpose of the room was, and he could not seem to figure it out, even as he scanned the room. He could make out some shapes and reached out to touch one of them. It felt solid and straight. Maybe a shelf. He got closer, his hands out in front of him, and took another step. All of a sudden, he was falling. He tried to stabilize himself on the unknown object, but it tipped and fell with him instead. Samuel and the object hit the floor with a loud crash.

Samuel groaned, turning over and holding his ribcage. His heart pounded. A dull light appeared in the hallway and got brighter along with footsteps that sounded in the hall and overhead.

"What in the Void?" he heard a familiar voice yell. A lantern shined in his eyes, and behind it was an old man. "Samuel?" the old man said. The other footsteps made it down the stairs, and Samuel could make out four more figures in the hallway. "What do you think you're doing?" the old man demanded.

"Overseer Morris," said Samuel. He could have recognized the old overseer's voice anywhere, as it was Overseer Morris who led all of the sermons.

"I - aagh," groaned Samuel as he tried to stand. The Overseer saw that Samuel was hurt and beckoned one of the other overseers to him.

"Help me with him," he said, his face grave. Overseer Morris and the other Overseer pushed and pulled Samuel, until he was on his feet. The room was bright now, as another overseer had lit the room lanterns. Morris faced Samuel, looking straight into his eyes, and opened his mouth, reciting one of the Strictures.

_" 'Restrict the Roving Feet that love to trespass._

_They pay no heed to the boundary stones of a neighbor's fields._

_They wander into foreign lands,_

_only to return with their soles blackened by iniquity._

_Where have you strayed that destruction now comes behind you?_

_Would you walk across burning coals or broken glass?_

_Then why do you prowl into the homes of the honest,_

_or into the dens hidden things, for the result is the same._

_You will fall into the Void!_

_Instead, rest your feet on a firm foundation_

_so that when the winds of the Outsider shriek against you,_

_you will stand firm and not be overthrown.'_

"So?" Overseer Morris said, crossing his arms. "Why have you trespassed into our humble home and so grossly ignored the Forth Stricture?"

"I -" Samuel's voice caught in his throat. Seeing the overseers without their masks seemed like some sort of religious crime. They all stared, and Samuel realized that he did not know who any of them were, except for Morris. He scanned their faces, hoping to find something familiar in their eyes, but there was nothing.

"This is very unlike you, Samuel," Morris said. "I'm very disappointed." Samuel broke eye contact with the Overseer, looking at his feet instead.

"Do you admit your wrongdoing, Samuel?" Another familiar voice. Overseer Wright stepped forward, the ice fading from his eyes.

"I do," Samuel replied, shaking his head. He raised his head again. "And I apologize, Overseers, for deliberately breaking one of the Strictures that you work so hard to teach all of us. I also apologize for waking you and for breaking your trust." Samuel turned to look at the shelf he had knocked over, which was full of copies of The Litany on the White Cliff. "I'm sorry about the shelf, too."

"You'll be cleaning that up," said Morris, his mouth puckered.

"Of course," Samuel agreed. Morris took a deep breath.

"Now, as you know, Samuel, the Abbey is allowed to administer its own punishments in any spiritual matters or other matters involving overseers or Abbey property." Samuel gulped. "I know you're a good boy, Samuel, and I am very surprised to see you here. You will never trespass on Abbey property again, do you understand?"

"Yes, Overseer," Samuel said, nodding eagerly.

"So, we will give you no punishment except to let your parents know of your involvement in this dishonest conduct." Morris nodded once. "How does that sound to you?"

"It sounds good, Overseer," Samuel said as convincingly as he could. Pa's face flashed into his mind.

"Now, pick up the shelf and the books, making sure you place the books neatly on the shelf, facing upward, with all titles pointed the same way. Then, be on your way. I'd ask that you please go straight home. I will have someone deliver my note to your parents on the morrow."

"Yes, Overseer." The overseers turned, a few shaking their heads, and made their way back up the stairs. Wright lingered for a few seconds, catching Samuel's eye and then climbing to the second floor with the rest of the overseers. Samuel found himself alone and wondering where Toby had gone. He was still upstairs, but Samuel could not figure out what to do. So, he picked up the bookshelf, groaning as he bore its weight on his shoulder and arms. The shelf wobbled, and Samuel could see that two of the legs had been removed from it, making it dangerously unstable, and tied in between the wall and the bookshelf was a shoelace. Toby's shoelace.

Samuel felt his face grow hot. All he wanted to do was scream and knock the bookcase over a second time.

_This must be how Pa feels when he's angry,_ Samuel thought.

He took a few deep breaths, and picked up a few books, clenching his jaw. The books stared back at him accusingly.

_This is what you get, you liar,_ Samuel told himself. He had it coming.

* * *

Samuel found that the loft looked extra inviting as he stepped into the house. On his walk home, his anger had faded, giving way to exhaustion. He climbed the ladder, trying not to step on Ma's and Pa's legs as he made his way to his own sleeping spot. He stepped on Toby 's quilts and nearly fell on his face when his foot hit a solid object.

Toby stirred under the quilts, and Samuel could feel his anger returning. He could not even see Toby's face in the dark, but he did not care, and the first thing he did was punch his brother's shoulder. Toby sat up, awake now, and Samuel pushed him back down, punching him in the arm and chest through the quilts again and again.

"Agh," Toby screamed. "Stop that, Samuel." Samuel continued to punch his brother, and Toby tried to defend himself.

"What's going on?" He heard Pa's voice from next to Toby's spot, "What are you boys doing?" Pa said groggily.

"I - " Samuel started, abandoning the fight, but before he could say anymore, Toby shoved him, and Samuel stumbled backward, falling from the edge of the loft and hitting the floor with a loud _thud_.

"Toby!" he yelled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Pain shot through his back.

"Toby, what the hell are you doing?" Pa bellowed.

"What's going on?" Samuel heard Ma's tiny voice sounding from the corner.

"Great, now you've woken up your ma," Pa grumbled. "Go back to sleep, Amelia. Everything's fine." He coaxed Ma back underneath the covers and then climbed down the ladder.

"Are you all right, son?" he asked.

"Yeah, Pa," said Samuel, rubbing his back.

"He hit me first," Toby said from the loft.

"Toby, not another word," Pa snapped. The house was still dark, so Samuel could not see either Pa or Toby.

"I'm going for a walk," he said turning toward the door, but then he turned back to Toby. "I never thought you would do anything like that to me. After all I've done for you."

"Just shut up, Samuel," Toby said. "You'll forgive me in the morning." Two seconds later, Samuel was out the door.

Once again, Samuel found himself walking around the empty, nighttime village. He headed straight for the pier, not even stopping to think about it.

_So much for my promise,_ he said, realizing that he had punched his brother only one day after he decided to never hit Toby again. He heard the door open and close behind him, and Toby approached, walking alongside of him.

"Do you wanna at least know why I did it?" Toby said, smirking.

"Stop smiling," Samuel told him. "You just left me there, alone. You got me hurt and caught on purpose." He rubbed his ribs and then his back.

"Oh, stop moping," Toby said. "How do you think _I_ feel. I just lost the love of my life. She could be _dead,_ but all you can think about it yourself and how you got into trouble with the overseers." Toby changed to a mocking voice. "Oh no," he said, putting his hands up. "I got in trouble with the overseers, and that's _baaad_." Toby strode in front of his brother, stopping suddenly. "You're so _selfish_ , Samuel."

Samuel stared at his brother, not knowing what to say. Toby had just called _him_ selfish? He went around his brother's body, making his way toward the pier.

"Fine, go!" Toby yelled. "I'll deal with it all by myself. _I'll_ find Susannah, and _I'll_ save her, and then we'll run away together, and I'll never need you again."

"Good. Maybe then I'll be able to live my own life and not have to spend my time cleaning up your messes," Samuel shouted back at him.

"We all know that won't happen, Samuel. You still have Ma and Pa to tell you what to do." Toby turned, striding back toward the house and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Samuel could see nothing but black on black as he stared out into the ocean. Dark gray clouds covered the sky, and the breeze chilled his flesh. He wondered what the ocean looked like from Whitecliff. He imagined there would be something magical about seeing the water from there. Well, maybe not "magical", but special nonetheless. As his eyes panned out over the horizon, Samuel found himself wondering if he could really travel on his own. Or did he want to stay in Old Pier with Ma and Pa?

Toby's words echoed in his head, and Samuel found himself agreeing with his brother. Yes, he occasionally did what he wanted to do, but most of the time he was helping Ma and Pa or following Toby. He had no obligation to do any of it, but he felt it was his duty to protect the family. With everyone growing up, did he really have to look after the family any more? Would more good come out of becoming an overseer? Then, he would be able to protect many people. Samuel remembered Overseer Wright's speech about his first time in Whitecliff.

The city of white stone and marble halls seemed like something out of a children's tale. Would it be dirty, like Potterstead? Did families live there, or just overseers? Did the overseers there have families? He would never find out the answers to his questions by staying in Old Pier. Sure, he could ask the overseers, but he wanted to see it all for himself.

_Toby will be proud of me,_ he thought. Samuel had decided to live his own life.

Samuel walked home smiling, feeling sure of himself. The house was warm as always, and the lantern had been turned on. Ma and Pa sat at the table drinking tea, and it looked as though Toby had gone back to bed.

"Your Ma couldn't sleep," Pa explained. They looked cozy sitting at the table together. Despite their tiredness, Ma and Pa seemed fresh and new.

"There's hot water on the stove if you want some tea, Samuel," Ma said. "Come sit with us. I feel as though I haven't seen you in a while." Samuel skipped the tea, heading right for the table. As he sat, he took a deep breath, looking at Ma and Pa, who stared back at him.

"What is it?" Ma asked, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. "I can tell you're happy about something." Samuel's mood seemed to spread to Ma first and then to Pa.

"Your birthday's coming up soon, Samuel," Pa said. "What do you want?" Samuel gaped at his father. Usually, Pa did not buy him or Toby anything for their birthdays. He hadn't since they were little boys. Samuel's face turned red.

"I - " he started. "I can't think of anything, Pa. I don't need anything."

"Oh, you'll think of something," Pa said, patting his shoulder. "Or I'll think of something for ya." He chuckled. The house was peaceful, as there was nothing for Ma and Pa to worry about, and Samuel had temporarily forgotten about Toby and Susannah.

"I wanted to tell you all," Samuel started. "I - " There was a knock at the door.

"What the - " said Pa. "It's four in the morning." Samuel tensed in his chair. The overseers. They were probably here to tell his parents about Samuel's intrusion, and he hadn't even told them the good news, yet.

Pa opened the door, and two overseers stood at the door.

"May I help you?" Pa asked.

"Yes," said the one on the right. "I am Overseer Tynan, and this is Overseer Kovalski. We are here from Dunwall on business and heard some disturbing rumors about your son. He will need to come with us, for as you know, witchcraft is strictly prohibited and punishable by death."

* * *

**Summer**

earth - Samuel's b-day - 2nd

**Fall**

seeds - fall (1st equinox) festival

nets - fishing time

rain

wind

**Winter**

darkness - high winter

high cold

ice

**Spring**

hearths - holy day of light

harvest- spring (2nd equinox) festival - Toby's b-day - 14th

timber

**Summer**

clans - high summer

songs

_fugue feast_


End file.
